When I step into my Tucson backyard and an aromatic concoction of thick moisture, sun-warmed wood, and breezy coolness greets my nose, another place co-exists in my mind: San Diego. Since annual summer trips to that coastal city as a child, a similar smell now and then triggers the phenomenon of feeling present in two places at once. Just surprising little 2-minute, imaginary vacations. Tucson’s only moist sometimes, and the recipe for “San Diego” has signature scent ingredients.
The scent of thick grass wafts my way in early morning hours, and it dominates the recipe for two other places. Sometimes a hint of moisture conjures up Badlands National Park. I momentarily stand on the prairie to watch a storm on the far horizon during my shift as a volunteer naturalist. The imagined expanse is both a comfort and a longing. Sometimes a related smell takes me less far: a ridge above the cabins of Tri-Y camp in Oracle, AZ. It’s fair to say that that camp counseling with Camp Wildcat in that place 20 years ago helped root me to this place not 20 miles away.
I’ve had the privilege to walk in and amongst piles of fallen leaves in Midtown Tucson in winter, before the rains. Each time the dusty, dry scent catches up to me, in my mind I am back at my grandparents’ house in Central Phoenix, raking or exploring with my cousins. Or walking along Oak Creek in Sedona, where the streambed shifts so that some leaves hide water under them and some coat dry stones.
Soggy ground that stays that way has its own scent. Over-irrigated landscaping, or marshy edges of man-made lakes here in Arizona, smell of Minnesota. The foreignness of ample water makes me feel a little out of place but wanting to return.
Water does make its way to Tucson. In February, I took a walk in the fog, intentionally setting foot in the desert after rain. It felt like the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. It smelled, though, like home. The Sonoran Desert. Creosotebushes are key, dripping and bedazzled. Their rich scent helped me be present.
All of the scents around my home are real and of this place. Some, like the creosote’s natural oils, are pretty unique. Some, like dried leaves or wind through the grass, overlap into other experiences, other places that have forged my personal sensitivities. If you have travel often or are a new desert dweller, what common scents have you noticed? Where do your memories take you? What brings you back to the desert?
