IT rained the other day.
It didn’t rain long or very much, perhaps one minute and about one millimetre, but it rained.
It hadn’t rained for a long time and it was great. That is a very African thing, the joy of rain.
I came across a wonderful word the other day that just exactly covered that joy.
Petricor, by definition the smell that accompanies the first rain after a dry spell. It was coined in the 1960s from the Greek petros, stone, and ichoe, the fluid that supposedly flows through the veins of the gods of Greek mythology.
We all know that smell and that extraordinary sensation so well.
The smell of rain on hot tar in town or on the dust out in the bush, it’s just so evocative, a truly African thing.
Here’s a delightful quote from someone who left Africa and now lives in the United States, “I grew up in Zimbabwe – that smell takes me back faster than anything else in the world. It’s the smell of exam time, purple jacaranda blossoms popping on the tar under car tyres, black clouds billowing up on a burnt dry horizon, and a longing for rain that no one who’s grown up in the UK can ever imagine. It is the only thing that makes me miss Africa. It was the smell of hope”. Wonderful stuff! Petricor!*
While we’re on the subject of smells, here’s one for the books.
It would seem that global climate change is an invidious business, and apparently it may now affect the smell of flowers.
A study done by scientists at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and published in the journal, Plant, Cell and Environment, says that as the world’s mean temperature rises so shall the fragrance of flowers fall.
It would appear that the fragrance of flowers is greater in temperate climatic zones than it is in high temperature zones and rising global temperatures are going to have a negative impact on the smell of flowers.
They demonstrated this through experiments done in nurseries and greenhouses. So, if you are wont to stop to smell the roses, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. (I wonder who paid good money for this particular piece of research).**
Moving on, the oldest animal on earth, a giant tortoise living on the island of St Helena in the South Atlantic, has been given a new lease on life.
Jonathan, who is 183 years old, was off colour, having trouble with his eyesight and losing the ability to forage for himself because of a bluntening of his beak, so the island’s vet put him on a high protein regime of carrots, apples and bananas.
The result is that Jonathan has gained weight, is quite sprightly again and even his beak has sharpened up.
He has lived in the grounds of Plantation House, the home of St Helena’s governor, since 1882.***
Well, bully for Jonathan. Cheers!
*A.Word.A.Day – Anu Garg. **Care2Causes.***The Week: The Best of the British and Foreign Media.
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