The scent of home

Is it the warm vanilla and coconut scent of wild gorse overlaid with the scent of pony sweat? Or the smell of saddle soap on old leather as we cleaned saddles in front of a oak wood fire?

Or could it be the spring scent of a pine forest weaving itself with the sweet smell of a newborn child?

Maybe it’s the comforting smell of the byre and the soft odour of new milk and the sweetness of a cows breath.

Could it be the scent of the pittosporum the night wind, or the sweet comfort of tree ripened peaches, their velvet skin soft in the pickers hand?

Or shall I claim it for the cold clean scent of salt water, fresh brewed coffee and smell of new baked bread in my ever changing, ever fluid home on the high sea?