I’ve heard it said that the senses of taste and smell are interconnected, and I deem it to be true. The sweet Maui wind pushes its breath across the beaches and palms. The scent of mango and coconut carried by that light breeze tingles as it skims my arms and wildly flutters the corners of my beach towel.
A trace of tangy saltwater twirls a pirouette throughout my hair, and I relax with salt-brined lips. Swift gusts ruffle across the sand, and at each day’s end, its’ residue is palpable.
An intense concoction of pineapple, banana trees, and spent Plumeria blooms hitch a gentle ride. Forever etched on my palate is the familiar aroma of long-abandoned sugar cane fields.
Even that gritty taste of volcanic red dirt that’s carried aloft and deposited at every tongue and doorstep. Some may scoff at my positive outlook, tasked to sweep dirt-laden lanais following those strong winds. The red dirt stains everything and bluntly denies its remedy.
I, too, sweep beneath my flip-flops but pause to drink in that warm wind scent. I’m grateful I can taste the Maui wind, connecting me to this paradise.
By Diana Warren
