pleasant smell - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
In the gardens I am greeted by the aroma of the roses. Between the neat beds of crimson bloom the fragrance is a time machine, granting me a fleeting visit to my grandfather's front yard. It was the envy of the neighbourhood in that sleepy retirement town, but how he and my grandmother loved it. To walk there was to be bathed in heady perfume. I would run between the beds, small shiny shoes over the petaled ground. In my mind it was confetti from the summer carnival and I was the princess again. The transitory evocation ends with passing strangers in loud conversation, landing me back in the present day. My shoes are dull and I no longer dream of ball gowns and princes...
In the bakery the air is more delicious than any flavour. Somehow the aroma captures everything good in there: the filter coffee, the various cakes, the danish pastries. The blend is perfection, but as a mixture of flavours they would be terrible- “coffee-cake-pastry”, I don't think so somehow. It's the kind of place I can sit in for hours, the air so perfumed without chemicals. I wish I could eat it, that my palate was as sophisticated as my sense of smell.
The sweet, savory aroma wafted through the cool autumn air. Her stomach clenched with hunger at the thought of sweet, honey rolls. She could imagine the warm, fluffy bun dripping with amber-colored liquid. She focused on the other smells in the air, like the earthy smell of cool rain or the salty tang of the ocean.
Inching her nose a little nearer to his neck, Lucy breathed in his scent which was nothing not all like her father’s, who always had a hint of tobacco smoke lingering about his person. In fact, his scent was so much more exotic; she could recognise the brand of cologne he used – one of her favourites – intermingling with the outlandish aroma of charcoal flames and cinnamon.
Her scent was intoxicating. Usually werewolves, well, smelt like wet-dog. But she smelt entirely different. She consisted of a scent that represented freshly cut timber, like the damp forest after a rainy day; she smelt heavenly, like fresh-scented pine and honey. Her aroma was like a drug to him, he couldn't get enough of it.
The familiar smell of filter coffee rose and dissipated into the crisp air. Ali's nose tingled with the usual morning flavor. He watched the skilled hand of the coffee maker pour just the right amounts of everything into the cup.
Wisps of hazy white rose from the hot brown liquid. Ali took the warm cup into his hands, his tense muscles relaxing as his sipped slowly at his coffee. The smell of freshly grounded coffee beans stimulated every single feeling of bliss in Ali. He drank it slowly and admitted to himself that his addictive tongue whirled around the very existence of coffee.
In my own home there is no aroma, or at least none I ever notice. Yet the fragrance in Audrey's condo takes me back to the meadows outside the village we hail from. I guess it helps that she has long grasses in cream vases and a subtle floral print to the wallpaper. But even with my eyes closed I can smell it, inhaling deeply like each breath is a time machine, and just for those few precious seconds we're twelve all over again with buttercups in our hair.
Spring / Summer: Lilacs, Suntan Lotion, Corn On The Cob, Watermelon, Cantaloupe, New Hay, Petunias, Seashore, Salty Ocean Breeze, Blueberry Muffin, Lavender, Freshly Cut Grass, Fresh Laundry, Cherries, Ripe Red Strawberries, Cucumber, Sandalwood, Fresh Linen, Gardenia, Key Lime Pie, Lavender, Lemon Polish, Pine-Sol Cleaner, Roses, Watermelon, Lily of The Valley, Peach, Magnolia, Honey-Suckle, Orange Ice-Cream Bars, Tangerine,