The smell of creosote is so everywhere lately that I barely noticed that I should be smelling orange blossoms right now.
I'm always on the edge of desert now. I veered from my path today to drive through my old north central neighborhood, sure it was a space where the white blossoms would take over for the little creosote poms. It was. Dueling spring scents.
I love the musty musky smell of orange blossoms, and the creeping smell of the creosote, which makes me think of rain and delicate green grass that looks like carpet on the mountains.