Well, this past week I was looking down into the holler toward Webb’s Creek and started thinking about the odor in my cabin. When I came home the other night my nose picked up a strange scent. The smell brought back the unpleasant memory of a spoonful of cough medicine that was forced down my throat a few decades ago at Ridgeview Elementary School. I could almost taste it. It was as if someone had mixed up a batch of Pepto Bismo and some of Sam’s orange pop and then sprayed it throughout our cabin. It was awful. I sniffed through the facts and discovered we had actually paid money for the odor and it even had a name; Hawaiian Breeze. It was potpourri.
Potpourri, which means “rotten pot” in French, has been stinking up castles and homes and now my cabin since all the way back to the 12th century. Like many inventions it started out as a good idea before it turned bad. There was a time when folks needed potpourri because they had no indoor plumbing or running water and masking certain smells was a necessity. I can imagine how folks in merry old England wearing skin tight britches and powdered wigs and hoop skirts… and never taking a bath for perhaps three or four years could require a serious intervention of potpourri. To be perfectly fair and balanced there probably are a few folks around who still need it, although most of my friends tell me they bathe fairly frequently.
I feel obligated to call this potpourri kettle black. Potpourri is totally out of control. Here are just a few of the smells you can purchase and I’ll bet that in a blind test you couldn’t match up a single aroma with its name: Ocean Blue, Tropical Mist, Waterfall Mist, Suddenly Spring, Raspberry Rain, White Tea & Lily, Peaches and Petals, Dewberry Dreams…… the list goes on. I wonder what kind of decision process is used in selecting the perfect odor for your home? Is someone really thinking, “Yeah, Dewberry Dreams. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” “Honey, don’t forget to pick up the porkshops, a lottery ticket and the Mango Fusion potpourri.”
Fortunately I have the solution to this smelly crisis. Build a small fire in your fireplace and then close the chimney vent for ninety seconds. Smoke will fill your home and totally eliminate that putrid smell of a Tropical Mist or the strange vapors of an Orchid Oasis. When it comes to potpourri I cast my vote for “Burnt Wood.” If you don’t’ have a fireplace just overcook some bacon for one hour to create “Rainy Morning Bacon” potpourri. That is just how it smells from my log cabin.
John LaFevre is a local speaker and co-author of the acclaimed interactive national park hiking book series, Scavenger Hike Adventures, Falcon Guides. Contact John at scavengerhike@aol.com or at his blog at Falcon.com. Artist G. Webb lives in Pittman Center, Tennessee. Gwebbgallery.com.
Your article has made several smile tonight. Write more soon. Yes, potpourri should not exceed the kitchen aromas.
T.Patterson