I have heard it said that smell memory is the most powerful memory of all. I know whenever I smell ironing on cotton fabric, it takes me right back to my childhood and my Mom ironing in the kitchen. This smell memory is a different kind. I was out walking yesterday morning and saw the sunlight shining through the woods on this mossy log. I climbed over the ditch and into the woods, watching carefully for poison ivy. Then the smell hit me–that damp woods smell, kind of mushroomy, but pleasant. It took me back to 1961 or so. We had a wide grassy backyard that led to a stream and beyond the stream was woods–acres of woods. We spent many hours running through the woods, swinging on the grapevines and picking flowers in the spring. It always smelled the same and for a few minutes yesterday morning, I was nine years old again.