For me, the smell of broom straw...bean soup cooking...sawdust...a hot attic...fresh gas and cigarette smoke....crayons...marigolds...dry firewood..new doll plastic....fresh tar on the street....take me to 434, the first house I remember living in.
The taste of anise and boiled eggs and dried apricots are primal for me (not to mention the memory of cod liver oil. I can conjure that bitterness in the back of my throat right now...ack.) I haven't eaten Cheerios in years, but that's a childhood flavor, too, with as much sugar as I could sneak into the bowl...lol
Last night, I had a 50's radio station on on the computer. It would have been the music that Mom listened to on WCCO radio when I was a preschooler.
No specific memory came back except for the image of the curtains in the living room at 434...a cross between these two, sorta:


Yup, huge open flowers on burgandy...the music did THAT?? lol
Then, this morning, I was checking my favorite blogs, and I clicked on this link from the Presurfer blog:
"Marla Olmstead is an abstract painter......Marla enjoys reading, cooking and gymnastics but is at her most joyful and expressive before the canvas.
Marla Olmstead is 5 years old".
Now THAT music is a more recent and has much sweeter memories!
xoxo
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