My grandmother always had eucalyptus in the house. There was a wreath that greeted you at the door and stems inside. Looking back now, it was so perfect. Eucalyptus isn't a flower, but it smells of perfume. Or maybe musk. It's hard to define, I suppose. It's hearty. She had the same stems year after year and they always smelled amazing. I remember arguing that they had to be artificial with artificial scent. Perfume doesn't last for years, except, apparently for eucalyptus. Some things surprise you. Year after year. Of course (!) she had eucalyptus. It makes so much sense today when, as an adult, I can understand more about my grandma and learn new things years after she's gone. Eucalyptus is some undefinable color. It certainly isn't pink. Maybe its blue, possibly green. I wouldn't know, to be honest.
It took one whiff today at Central Market to bring it all back to me. The wreath. The stems. My grandma.
I'll be buying a wreath very soon...
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