Scents and Sensibility in Ventura

Sometimes beauty is in the nose of the beholder. A report last week about unsavory smells noticed in some corners of Ventura got us thinking about all the fragrances we love about the place.

There is the perfume of lemon blossoms wafting from the city’s endangered yet persistent acres of orchards.

There is the aroma of grilling onions and bitchin’ burgers billowing from Duke’s on Seaward like a magnet for hungry taste buds.

There is the sweet kiss of cappuccino coaxing open bleary eyes on the veranda outside the Daily Grind--and the no-nonsense jolt of industrial-strength java that hits you as you walk down Thompson.

At the Pierpont Inn, timeless clouds of Shalimar caress the ladies-who-lunch like a Fred Astair embrace.

When the Santa Anas blow there is a fleeting whiff of desert sage--and perhaps an ominous tinge of smoke.

True, in certain seasons the breeze reminds us that our farm-town roots remain deep and productive. So wait a while, then enjoy the harvest.

There is the smell of fresh-mown grass and the clean scent of chlorine at the new east end park and aquatic center. (Oops, we’re getting ahead of ourselves on that one.)

And the tantalizing aroma of neighbors barbecuing outdoors . . . in February.

There is the smell of bait buckets along the pier, intensifying in inverse proportion to the fisherman’s optimism as the hours drift by.

And on sunny Sunday afternoons, the intoxicating aroma of coconut oil being massaged lovingly into the bronzing curves of bikinied bodies on mile after mile of beach.

Above, below and around it all there is the salty freshness of the mighty Pacific Ocean--a constant reminder of how lucky we all are to be living in Ventura and not someplace with bigger problems to complain about.