vanilla daze

I love vanilla. It is calming, soothing, and better than a session on the couch to calm down. ( I mean as in Freud, not that kind of couch session, get over it.)

Lately I have been aware of the constant presence of vanilla in my home and cooking. I have vanilla scented candles and light them when I come home. During the summer I use lemon, or a green scent, but now that it is turning to fall, I turn to vanilla. The sweet, calming scent is perfect after a day where I must wear my public face as a teacher. I don't over do it, the scent is not everywhere in my home, just in that candle. Ever since I have moved into my home, I light large candles in the evening to provide a presence, light, and scent. They are my company in a way when dogs and humans are not here. My pantry is filled with former candle jars now serving as cannisters for dried pulses and rices.

I have vanilla lotion and it is a nightly ritual to slather it on before bed, and after showering in the morning. Whether it is my own touch on my skin or someone else's hands on me, I like to think that the scent of vanilla is a relaxing, slightly sensual and at the same time creates memories of childhood as I smooth it on.

There are several types of vanilla in my pantry: Madasgaster, Mexican, and one from Hawaii. I have beans, paste, and extracts. Actually, I didn't realize I had so much or use so much until I began to write. Vanilla goes in my smoothies in the morning, along with yogurt, bananas and some fruit. It flows into my steel cut oats, flavoring their al dente bite instead of sugar. I generally make the coffee, start the oats or the smoothie and then drink and eat as I finish my hair and make up before running out to the car. The smell of vanilla and the light tan it tints my breakfast is a constant. Trivia? Maybe, but this is my posting and I am into it. Vanilla starts and ends my day, whether on my skin or on my tongue.

I could write about nutmeg or cinnamon, other favorites, and in truth will someday. But tonight I want to celebrate vanilla. If we could, as we taste each other, taste like vanilla, it wouldn't be a bad thing. Comfortable without becoming cloying, reminiscent of desserts in the past without nostalgia, and evocative of nights ahead with smooth and perfumed skin, it is truly a gift of orchids. Better than any orchid corsage, I would rather have vanilla in my clevage, my breakfast, and my perfumes.