Seed Scents
Our flower seeds are stored in a temperature-controlled room that we call the 500 Room. It sits off a mezzanine overlooking the main stockroom floor, separated from the rest of the warehouse by a vinyl-strip curtain. As you pass through the curtain a wave of scents hits you. Many of our herb seeds are stored here as well – That is what you notice first. It’s like standing in the spice aisle at the grocery store. The strong aromas of cumin, chives, and basil almost overwhelm your senses, but as you walk the aisles you begin to pick out other scents. There are no windows here and the lighting is dim. The only sound is that of the fan, blowing cool air. The calm of the room further heightens your sense of smell, as your other senses share focus, allowing you to lose yourself in the labyrinth of fragrance.
Castles in the Clouds
As our first significant snow storm of the season shrouds the Flat Irons in fluffy whiteness, I take refuge in the 500 Room. I close my eyes as I inhale deeply, breathing in the cacophony of scents. It’s kind of remarkable how much the flower seeds smell like the plants that bore them. I suppose part of me expected their scent would fade just as their vibrant petals had, leaving behind only these little packages of possibility. Cocoons from within which their splendor and scent would once again burst forth. But the seed coat isn’t the coffin from which Dracula rises, it’s more like the shell on a tortoise or bark on a tree. Not separate from, but a part of. This is what hope smells like.
The wildflower mixes are my favorite. They smell like honey. Not just honey, they smell like honeycomb that’s been warmed in the sun on summers day in July. And not your run of the mill clover honey, but wildflower honey, that has a deep richness and spice to it. It’s pure bliss. Then there is the lavender, which has sweet undertones of vanilla cream that’s not only calming but also comforting and reassuring, like the blanket hugs and forehead kisses of scents. And the fennel that reminds me of sausage and makes me wonder how much longer until lunch.
I wander the rows, sniffing as I go, taking in the aroma of different seeds as I try to learn to recognize them by their scent. I revel in the verdant scents as long as possible, until my senses become overwhelmed and nose-blindness sets in. The pervasive scent of Cumin is the only smell remaining. Time to climb back down the beanstalk. A longing sigh carries me back to my office.
Back to Reality
As I watch the snow fall outside my office window, I think about how far away spring is and how grateful I am for the herbs growing in my kitchen. I would rather be tending my garden, but in the cold steel grey of December, I need to lay my eyes on something green. So, I grow basil, oregano, and cilantro, and sometimes I even use them when I cook. I tell myself that’s why I grow them, or maybe that’s just what I tell everyone else. If that were actually the case, I’d have replanted my basil already – The stalks have gone woody and it’s too bitter to cook with, but it still smell nice when I run my finger through its leaves. So, I know, the real reason is I just need to grow something. I make a mental note to start more basil after the holidays.
That is how I’m chasing memories of Spring on this cold, grey day in December. How are you coping with garden withdrawals this winter? I know I could pull out my garden planner and maybe later I’ll throw out some more wildflower seeds. For now, thank goodness for my kitchen herbs and the 500 Room.
