The smell of my childhood

is wood. and stain. and varnish.

When we were setting up the book case in my diningroom, and removing the shrink wrap and protective cardboard pieces, I leaned in, closed my eyes, took a big wiff, and said "Oh, I love that smell."

Greg (the guy helping me move and the son of the owner) looked at me with a somewhat puzzled expression and said, "You do?". (I'm sure he thought I was weird or crazy or both)

Some people love that 'New Car' smell. I could care less. I like the 'New Furniture' smell.

The freshly cut wood, the faint wiff of stain and polyurethane.

I confess to secretly opening the cabinet doors on the book case and drawers in my desk and inhaling deeply when nobody is looking. It'll fade away soon enough. And I made all my kids come and smell and appreciate it too.

You know how scent is one of those things that brings you back to a time and place?

For me, the smell of new furniture takes me back to my childhood home.

My bedroom was in the basement, right next to my dad's wood shop. He was always in there working on something. He built most of the furniture in my parent's house, and a good percent of the furniture in my house right now. My mom even had her own band saw and spent the better part of the late 80's and early 90's in the basement cutting out wood for various relief society homemaking projects. Homemaking leaders from all over came to her to have her cut out wood for them.

Anyway, somewhere along the way I learned to love the smell of new furniture.