Smoke on the wind

Smells can transport you to past moments or periods, so powerful are their associations.  The heavy rich scent of burning garden refuse wafted about Studland this morning, transporting me back to the 1970's, where like white dog poo and 3 for a penny mojos, for me garden bonfires are synonymous. Folk had more garden fires back then, I know my Dad did as did the neighbours. I believe it was a lack of recycling or garden waste collection that made them a necessity, whatever, but common they were. Today it was the NT volunteers clearing undergrowth. I closed my eyes and watched as images were paraded before me from deep in my subconscious memory, causing a wave of nostalgia to wash over me. I smiled, the 70's were good times on the whole. As got closer to their fire the smell of the fire changed as did my associations, now my mind wandered to the free festivals of the 80's and early 90's, before the criminal justice bill outlawed such free delights.  Again closing my eyes, the smoky odour transported me, I could see, hear, feel those festivals, the people, the music, the sense of optimism, the belief that the future could be better. With all that's transpired since, looking back we appear naive, still good times were had and fond memories created.  As I start the rise up to Godlingston Hill the smell of woodsmoke fades and I return to the here and now, brushing off a slight feeling of melancholy I look at the wonders of the woodland about me and stride on.