Fleeting Moments Of Scents
In my last gaff I used to hate lime trees. This was because the only place I could park was underneath one and between April and October every year my windscreen was covered in sticky, gooey 'dew.'*I was such a grumpy Phantom as I tried to sponge off the mess that I never once noticed what lime blossom actually smells like - a little piece of Heaven. It took a trip to the Cotswolds in July one year to really appreciate it. Now I actively seek it out.
Folks, may I suggest that some time in the very near future, you take a wander through Greenwich Park and stand underneath a lime tree? (Not for too long if you don't want to get very sticky...) The one at the top of this post is just inside the main entrance and is laden with pretty little understated pale-green flowers now. Stand below and take a sniff. It's wonderful.
If that's not enough, try the mock-orange blossom a little way past the herb garden. There are also a couple by Gloucester Circus's railings.
I know. I'm a soppy Phantom today. So shoot me...
*Actually aphid-excrement. Nice.Labels: Green Greenwich
posted by The Greenwich Phantom at
07:53
7 Comments:
Beautiful - amazing what you don't notice on your doorstep - will take a sniff later - and some wet wipes...
Can't believe there is no-one in the picture - considering where it's taken!
It was VERY early in the morning - can't believe I was actually up...
Maybe it was the early morning that made the fragrance so heady - but it was quite a shock...
So - the apparently grumpy Phantom reveals his softer side. I always guessed that he was really a sheep in Wolfe's clothing.
You're right about lime trees. I used to park under them when I lived in Islington and, gooey windscreen aside, the "dew" would glue my doors shut!
I think lime leaves are actually edible in salads
And for the complete Proustian experience, take a madeleine with you when you visit the lime blossom ...
"And as soon as I had recognized the taste of the piece of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-blossom which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like a stage set to attach itself to the little pavilion opening on to the garden which had been built out behind it for my parents (the isolated segment which until that moment had been all that I could see); and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I used to be sent before lunch, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine. And as in the game wherein the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with water and steeping in it little pieces of paper which until then are without character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch and twist and take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or people, solid and recognizable, so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann's park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and its surroundings, taking shape and solidity, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea."
Or, in an equally profound and heavyweight cultural reference, we need only turn to Harry Nilsson:
"Bruder bought a coconut, he bought it for a dime,
His sister had anudder one she paid it for de lime.
She put de lime in de coconut, she drank 'em bot' up
She put de lime in de coconut, she drank 'em bot' up.
She put de lime in de coconut, she drank 'em bot' up
She put de lime in de coconut, she call de doctor, woke 'im up,".
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home