THE SMELL OF SUMMER

On a hot summer day comes a peculiar longing for the odor of dog fennel or horsemint, aka monarda, by the more stylish botanist.

One might wonder about this longing. Why not old roses and gardenias? Well, those too, but I have somewhat of an explanation for the fennel and horsemint longing.

Dog fennel and mountain growing horsemint are strong, nostril opening odors, like Sloans' liniment or Vicks Vapo-Rub. Not that they bear a likeness to these potent liquid and salve "smelling salts;" their "fragrance" reminds me of strength in hard places, ability to survive despite unfriendly surroundings.

The dog fennel I formerly knew grew along the edges of dirt and rocky roads where it was constantly run over by iron-rimmed wagon wheels, and daily trampled by horses, cattle and barefooted kids. It never gave up. Here it was the next morning, standing upright, yellow blossoms freshened by dew, ferny leaves undaunted.

The mountain horsemint that we encountered on the rocky hillsides when searching out the cows for home coming (open range) grew in thin soil between assorted hard rocks that reflected summer woods' heat which seemed to breed swarms of gnats. There might also be a nearby, colorful snake sticking out its tongue at the passerby. There stood the "flower," unseen by most, wasting its fragrance on the hot summer air, except for a farm child going after the cows.

Roses and gardenias are for ladies in silk dresses in cool parlors, sipping iced drinks, while dog fennel and horsemint are the rough, smelly soldiers out in the trenches.

So, on a hot day, when one can scoop up mugginess by the cupful, and despite the A/C and fan and tinkling iced tea, I want to be reminded of strength and survival. A sniff of dog fennel would be to my spirit like a sniff of Vicks could be to a stuffy nose. A waft of horsemint would remind me of Mama's go-with-what-you-have cool drink. Coming down from the hot hills, damp with sweat, briar scratched and smelling of pennyroyal (another soldier in the trenches), Mama, having drawn some fresh, cool water from the deep well would add a smidgen of vinegar and two smidgens of sugar and offer me a drink. Ahhhh!

I had some upgraded, rosy-lavender monarda in my garden once, but like so many perennials, over the years, it got away from me. Had pennyroyal too. A dear friend in Oklahoma City sent me some seeds of this aromatic plant, good for dog beds to keep the fleas away. Took two years for the plants to get established. When they did, they threatened to take over the whole yard like the milkweed once did, so I have to take certain steps.

I know where some dog fennel is if it hasn't been black-topped over. Maybe, with my trusty trowel, and if it is still there, I'll steal a plant and insert it in between my gallardia and blue pinchusion flowers, just to show that it is a flower too. On a 95-degree-plus day, I can go out and take a whiff of it to sustain me for yet another hot day, with dog days just ahead and Young Stripe, Old Stripe's shiny offspring, learning to stick his tongue out at me.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.