If you are of a certain age, you might remember the cartoon character Pepe Le Pew, an amorous skunk who was smitten by a beautiful girl-creature who Pepe was convinced was the skunk-mate of his dreams.
In his love-is-blind state of male passion, Pepe neglected to pick up on the sad reality that the object of his affection was a cute little female black cat, not a skunk.
What I actually remember most from that cartoon, however, was the way the animators had Pepe float. Catching the scent of the female-cat-not-skunk, Pepe would drift through the television screen air, carried toward bliss--and often a collision with a tree, or a drop off a cliff. Do you remember how the cartoonists gave a visual life to the fragrance? It was drawn as a mist, a moving cloud, and Pepe would follow that olfactory invitation to trouble every time.
We have those very same mists present in our house these days because Leah is spending her every free minute in the kitchen, canning peaches and plums and what-have-you, the fruits of our orchard's summer bounty. Working with the same kinds of glass jars and metal canning lids my grandmother used, Leah’s putting-up of preserves sends out a fragrance that transports me back in time, into my grandmother’s house, and yes, even into those long-ago days when cartoons were a big part of my kid-life and Pepe and his cat girlfriend were my imaginary friends.
Today our house is filled with a peach and plum fragrance that has me drifting through the air, following my nose toward the kitchen.
Pepe, mon frere, I understand the lure of le parfum.
