Here's the second story of a move I made to an overcast, cloudy town, and besides some joy, there's some gratitude mixed in with this, a story of small town manners.
Corvallis Oregon was the northern locale my then-husband was relocating to for a post-doctoral position. I knew very little about Oregon, less about Corvallis. In November, 1978, we packed up Roxy the Rastapoodle and Bootsy the cat and drove nonstop to Corvallis. The professor who had hired my husband had rented a townhouse for us and we moved in the night we arrived.
|Corvallis Oregon - courtesy of gardengrumblesandcrossstitchfumbles|
The next morning we awoke and I was driving him to his job so I could have the car and shop. When we walked outside, what looked like snow was falling, but when I went to clean it off the car, it didn't feel like snow, and there was a smell of smoke in the air, lots of smoke. Rain had fallen, and it was freezing, so we began the drive, and I spun out on some "black" (invisible) ice over a bridge. Luckily, there were no other cars nearby, and I was able to keep driving. We didn't have a TV (hippies!) and so I went back to the townhouse wondering what was going on. Gray, rain, fake snow, smoke. Not a good welcome to this little town.
We found out later in the day that a tire dump had caught on fire, and the "snow" was ash from it, blanketing the region, accompanied by the strong smoke smell. I spent many days indoors through December, until I got a job in January, but I didn't suffer from SAD, which is good, because in a new town, no friends, the holidays, no job, gray skies and rain, I could have been a really bad case.
In January or February, we had made some new friends, so we invited them over for some of my homecooked Chinese food and a "human scent strip" party. I had held many of these in various cities in California, and they were always a lot of fun. I'd dip a toothpick in oils and dab all of the fingers of the friends with 10 different scents, and when the fingers were done, I'd start on the wrists, top side first, then underside, and up the arms I'd go. Everyone was engaged with the oils and chatting about them, and off they'd go, into the night, back to their homes, smelling like a fragrant garden.
Corvallis is a small town, somewhat isolated, and has a down-to-earth vibe. Imagine my surprise when, the next day after the party, four of the six guests called to thank me for the party and talk about the aromatics. Nobody in California had ever called to thank me. I know they enjoyed themselves, but maybe the bigger city folks were lacking in the small town manners.
That always stayed with me. Small town folks may be more appreciative and show gratitude easier than those in fast-paced places.
|Nichols' homespun images had me fooled, but they were totally forgiven because...see below..|
My biggest discovery there, totally unexpected (well, besides the unexpected paper pulp mill) - dill weed oil. I had been collecting essential oils and absolutes for years, but never saw dill weed. I got it, and started cooking with it, making spanakopita and chicken soup and potato salad. Love those essential oils, yum, yum! That's why Nichols' is totally forgiven for the image/reality disconnect - they introduced me to the art of cooking with essential oils! ;-)
|Showing the Anya's Garden perfume love :-) Next month the Guild will have a "Love" event, so make sure you subscribe to this blog and check back then!|
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