One beautiful early morning I found myself down by the river. The river calls to me when mornings break, leading me down to its banks where I find solace, a listening ear and more often than not, something extraordinary and new.

As I was coming up toward the highbush Cranberry I visit regularly, I was struck by a strong and incredibly sweet smell. The smell was so strong, I was reminded of a friends post I had seen the day before on Facebook about the offensiveness of perfume and cologne being worn in the city, particularly on the subway and how it is made worse in the heat of summer. I immediately began thinking how wonderful it would be if this mysterious smell that had captured me was a natural one, but doubt filled my mind as I was close to the local ice cream shop and imagined this intoxicating smell must be man made. In my heart I wished otherwise. I continued to walk to the place where I turn around to return home and the smell hit me again as I approached the river. Like a dog I let my nose lead me until I found myself by a chain linked fence covered in flowering wild grapes.

The flowers are so small, and not in the height of their flowering, so, I thought it impossible that these high and sweet notes filling the air could be coming from them. I bent closer and put my nose right into a flower cluster and there I was lifted to a place of thanks. Here, in our humble and “weedy” wild grape, I found one of the sweetest smelling flowers I had ever smelled.


I lingered around there taking in the pleasure of this new fragrance. I imagine it was experiences just like this which inspired the first perfume makers. This fine scent which lifted my senses to a wonderful place and wonderful feeling was not to be found in a bottle or in a flavour of ice cream; this was nature and my spirit rejoiced.


It is moments like this one, where nature cannot cease but to amaze. I thought of all the people in the subways and city streets while I gazed about the river and felt utterly thankful to live in my little village. Thankful for the river who knows my name and who calls to me, drawing me out of my life and into the world of nature.