I keep finding unposted pictures of happy memories, when the world was green and much less apocalyptic. Here I am with my Scherazi tobacco. I bought the seedling from a woman at the Ithaca farmer's market. She said it had an amazing scent in the garden, and made for a good smoke. I enjoy the fragrance of nicotiana when I am moth-gazing at night, and Matt enjoys a good smoke, so it sounded like just the ticket. I was disappointed when the lovely pale pink flowers came and smelled like nothing. But then on a warm afternoon when the sun was cooking up little thermals of air above the garden, I smelled something... Dark-dirt-animal. Wet-leather-smoke-and-manure, like a damp cigar. This must be the smell the farmer was talking about - one I associate with cured tobacco, and didn't know could come from a green plant. I can never call it up on command - crush the leaves, bruise the stem... nothing. It wafts up like an aura when it wants to, and I love it.
