Every August my grandmother would come to visit us on Vashon Island, Washington. I remember that she’d always bring 2-3 empty coolers because she loved to pick our blackberries and take them back home with her to Montana.

For 2-3 weeks in August, it was peak season for blackberries on the Island. The Puget Sound is known for blackberries. And in August they were known to grow like weeds. They lined all of the roads, dotted the parks and filled everyone’s backyard. They were everywhere.

I have a clear memory of the smell of ripe blackberries from the age of around 10 or 11. And specifically, I remember my grandmother picking buckets of berries during the day and then coming inside and baking pies and cobblers with them.

During those two weeks, blackberries were all over the place in our lives. The smell overtook our kitchen and even our back porch, where my dad fermented them for wine.

I remember the smell being very sweet, very fresh and alive. There’s the smell when they’re on the vine and then the smell of the juice on your hands when you’re picking them. We had barrels filled with them - just sitting in the warmth - the scent filling the room.

Now, when I smell blackberries, it immediately takes me back to my grandmother in the kitchen and the buckets of blackberries waiting to be transformed by her.

The smell gives me a deep sense of grounding. It was unique to our family and it’s very rooting to me. I feel rooted in my family, and where we’re from, and who we are.

If the scent had a sound, what would it be? Ambient music filling the room. It’s not obtrusive, but soothing and pleasant.

If the scent had a color, what would it be? Pink.

If the scent had a texture, what would it be? Syrupy - smooth, sticky and thick. Like a soothing salve.

If the scent could give you advice, what would it tell you? Remember to be grounded and connect with what’s good around you, appreciate it and live in the moment.