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*sigh*

When the northerly wind blows, hard, whipping up the sea in the harbour, you can taste the salt in the air.

It's like that today, gusty, wet, wild. And I was sitting at the computer when all I could smell was salt air, the smell of salt on old paint filling my nostrils.

That smell always reminds me of the ships my Dad works on, ploughing across Cook Strait, and me going on trips with him when I was young and feeling special because I could go up on the bridge of the ship with him.

And on days like this, when I hang the washing out, I have to hold the clothesline with my teeth so it doesn't blow around, and I can taste the salt on the line, and I think of the sea and ships.

Another evocative smell. The smell of a candle being blown out, that sharp smell of smoke. Without fail it reminds me of tramping, of being in a mountain hut at night, and blowing the candle out and falling into darkness and listening to the wind or the rain or the stars sliding across the sky. And I would always smile at that precise moment as I snuggle down into my sleeping bag.

I will sleep well tonight, smelling and dreaming.