Isn't it remarkable how a certain smell or aroma can immediately throw you to a different place in time? A memory so intense that it's almost as if you're right back there, totally in the moment. For me it's a more focused memory, more vivid than a visual experience or a sound.
I found this gardenia on the ground at a garden center and scooped it up and inhaled and was immediately swept away to Kampala, Uganda, 1971. We were in our beautiful rented home in Kololo, one of the suburbs of Kampala. New to the country and every sight and sound and smell was different, strange, and foreign to us.
Kampala is right on the equator, with the most remarkable climate. Never too hot or too cold, the house had openings above the windows, with screens and slats so that air always flowed through the house. Natural air conditioning. This allowed the scent of the gardenia bush to travel through the house, embroidering our dreams. The creamy blooms were enormous - the size of salad plates, set off by glossy green leaves.
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