The smells of summer

Can you smell summer? (File: 260584)

By Maria Millers

Officially summer is here and though the days can vary from bursts of heat back to ‘grabbing a cardy kind of day’, it’s beginning to smell a lot like summer.

Smells have a profound impact on us, from shaping our emotions, memories, and behaviour to influencing our physical and psychological states.

They are deeply embedded in the way we experience the world, playing a crucial role in shaping our preferences, interactions, and overall sense of well-being.

The power of smell can be subtle but undeniably affects everything from our daily mood to our long-term memories.

So what are the distinctive smells that evoke the unique environment of an Australian summer?

The smell of freshly mown grass and damp lawns after a summer rain is common in our suburbs. And after a hot, dry spell, the first rain of summer brings the unmistakable scent of fresh rain on dry earth known as petrichor.

This earthy aroma, mixed with the greenery of summer, can feel like a welcome relief from heat.

The smell of eucalypt can also be particularly strong after rain or when the air is hot and the leaves release oils that add a cooling aromatic quality to the air.

Australian poets Judith Wright and Les Murray both capture this essence of eucalyptus in the environment.

In Noonday Axeman Murray reminds us how:

The hot eucalyptus-gummed air

clings to your skin, your nostrils flare

with resinous sharpness, ancient as time.

Similarly in Judith Wright’s Summer Rain the rain acts as a cleansing force that brings both growth and change.

The title itself suggests the rain as a transformative, a force of life, perhaps cleansing, and nourishing, but also fleeting and ephemeral:

The air itself is a leaf,

And each of us

Is a leaf on a tree.

But it is the scent of eucalyptus,

The heat on the skin,

The smell of rain before it comes

And Banjo Patterson reminds us to not forget the scent of wattle blossoms in late spring and early summer:

There’s a fragrance in the wattle,

In the sunlight, in the breeze,

And the yellow flowers scatter

On the air with joyous ease.

For those living close to the sea the salty, fresh scent of the ocean air as one of the most iconic smells of an Australian summer.

Oodgeroo Noonuccal, a prominent Indigenous Australian poet in The Beach, evokes the smells and sights of the coast, which is an integral part of Australian summers.

The warm salt wind blows soft,

The gentle spray is cool,

The waves, they toss and break,

And in the air, the sea-salt’s bloom.

Tim Winton often describes the sensory experiences of Australian summers in his novels including the evocative smells that characterize the season.

In Breath Winton vividly portrays the tang of salt air and the raw scents of the ocean, which often carry the heat of summer:

The air smelled of kelp and salt, with the faintest hint of wood smoke drifting down from the hills.

It was the smell of summer—sharp, clean, and alive, like the sea was exhaling.

The smells of the sea provide a sense of nostalgia, freedom, and a deeper understanding of Australia’s coastal culture, often reminding us of those carefree, yet formative experiences of childhood spent on the beach or by the sea.

Before overseas destinations beckoned, many a family summer holiday was spent camping on a foreshore with all the paraphernalia needed to survive insect bites, cuts and the inevitable sunburn: lotions, zinc creams, insect repellents and soothing calamine lotion.

However, not all summer smells are welcome. David Malouf in The Burning Plain captures the olfactory impact of a bushfire.

The air reeked of ash and scorched earth.

Even as the fire moved on,

the land held its memory in smoke

Fires have been part of the Australian experience long before European settlement and the landscape and ecology have evolved to depend on it, but they also pose a persistent threat.

Many of us now live on the fringes of cities in what are fire prone areas and often not prepared for the ferocity of a bushfire.

And it has taken a long time to accept the reality of recurring fires as the natural order.

For Indigenous people fire has been a tool for sustaining and regenerating the land, rather than simply a destructive force.

Controlled burns have been used for thousands of years to clear undergrowth, encourage new plant growth, and maintain ecosystems.

Oodgeroo Noonuccal explores this in Burning the Grass, where she contrasts the destructive fires of European settlers with the traditional, controlled burns that were part of the Indigenous people’s deep knowledge of the land.

The fire that sweeps the plains

Is not the white man’s way,

It is the land’s way,

The way of the blackfella

Similarly Bruce Pascoe in Black Emu discusses the aftermath of controlled burns and the difference in smell compared to uncontrolled bushfires:

The smoke from a careful burn was sweet and fleeting,

a breath of renewal.

But the wildfires scorched the land and left behind

a choking bitterness.”

These smells, whether fresh and fruity or earthy and salty, or threatening combine to create the sensory experience of an Australian summer, bringing together the natural world, the outdoors, and the excitement of the season.

In the coming weeks there’ll be another smell in many homes: that intoxicating smell of pinus radiata our popular choice for a Christmas tree.