With winter here I can’t help but notice the distinct difference of the two smells between a Wood Stove or a campfire.
Why is there such a difference?
Different woods smell different when burned.
Also, wood for a wood stove is usually dried for at least a year before burning;
And, the wood burned in a stove sends MOST of the smell up the stack,
And, you also have the smell of hot metal added.
This is because types of wood smell different when burning. If you had the same type of wood in both fires they would smell the same.
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Different woods smell different, but that isn’t all you smell, trees, plants, animals, water and so on contribute too.
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Different woods smell different when burned.
Also, wood for a wood stove is usually dried for at least a year before burning;
And, the wood burned in a stove sends MOST of the smell up the stack,
And, you also have the smell of hot metal added.
References :
Obviously a difference in woods selected for each burning environment will account for part of the fragrances given off, but for me, there’s a much more interesting aspect involved: It’s the excitement!
I’ve got a heap of camping gear just itching for the opportunity to take me to the woods. It’s screaming: "Len, can’t you just hear the crackling and smell the perfume of resins burning off, making everything smell piney and fresh woodsy and removed from the hum-drum every day sameness? We’re sitting here by the door, ready to bring you back to a bit of heaven even if just for a few days. C’mon, now—let’s hit the road!"
Bad weather on several consecutive weekends plus a cold over the holiday have interfered in my dream-wishes but this will resolve. Meanwhile, I yearn for the aromas of wintry pine needles and cones sizzling while I’m bundled up in sweats and enjoying the piping hot cocoa or coffee despite wisps of burnt ash along for the ride in my mug. Strangely, coffee and cocoa never taste quite as good anywhere but at the ol’ campground.
We’re often transported to other worlds by association…some by the visual or sounds as in the concert hall or auditorium, but we often overlook the romance of things we smell. We can barbecue all day long at home yet never quite capture the glory of that burnt bit of gristle we lovingly call chicken or a hot dog meeting its execution at the camp out. Somehow, something is lost in the translation. So, is it merely the choice of wood?
Nope, not for this die hard lover of the woods. No, it’s the realization that I am part of the woods, no more deserving of life and being than a blade of grass or a frond growing across the way from my shelter or tent. Yet I am part of that scene and even the smell of a toasting marshmallow is usually all that’s needed to transport me to the place I most easily identify with…for it’s where I’m nothing more than a blade of grass…yet I count as much as any other living thing. To be counted as part of the world is as great a gift as there could be. It’s called "life!" And I love all of it.
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