Life is transcient. It slips through the fingers like sand on an empty shore sometime in late September when the days draw shorter and the chill rises off the sea at dusk.
Cherry blossom fragrances therefore greet me with the conundrum of transient joy over fruitful outcome. I picked this jammy-smelling scent by L'Occitane because it encapsulates disparate elements of the delight in the ephemeral: a touch of rain, a hint of apples and melons to come, peppery jolt in the air, the lingering aftertaste of cherry jam when the jar has been emptied...
Like Henry Miller said "the scent of playing [with a particular part of the female anatomy] on one's fingers is all the more beautiful after the fact because it carries the memory of the finished fact". I am paraphrasing. But you get my point.