I miss the smell of Florida whenever I’m gone. That is where I was born and raised. Not the plastic flamingo Florida of uber tourists, but the Florida of cabbage palms and sandhill cranes wading in the waist high marsh grass. It has a wonderful smell. A green smell. A rich wet smell—especially when a storm is blowing in from the unseen oceans that define my state. A salty smell that is as hard to describe to someone as the lacy shadows of live oaks and Spanish moss.
What does your home state smell like? Or am I the only one who notices these things?
Naomi Jackson began writing novels at the age of eleven, but only recently began her career as a freelance author and passionate storyteller. When she is not reading or writing, you can find Naomi tending to her houseplants, taking a long walk, or volunteering at her home church. She lives with her family in southern Florida.