aroma therapy

aroma therapy. 

the stench of seaweed and mud in the salt marsh at dead low tide in Liscannor brought back memories of the great adventures of my early childhood. Had Connecticut been a county of Ireland in those days? Salt air and mud, the wind cold against my cheeks again after a lifetime spent in the Central American rainforest, wooden work boats in the 35-40' range wintering at drydock, huddled together as if to shelter each other from the wind. These smells and images were as sharp as the sound of the daily pledge of allegiance to Richard Stanz. i slipped out of sight between 2 boats and relieved myself against a blue hull while nutie waited in the car. a naughty little schoolboy watched the steam rise into the air and, justified, said aloud to himself, "just doing my bit to scrape off the barnacles, me lads..."