That smells ... heavenly?

So I was sitting on the sofa the other day, reading (actually, re-reading) this really great book called I Capture the Castle. Seventeen-year-old Cassandra (the novel’s penniless heroine) and her older (equally penniless) sister Rose have traveled from their dilapidated old castle in the English countryside to the bustling city of London. Their quest: to collect much-needed clothing inherited from their ancient, eclectic (and newly deceased) Great Aunt Millicent. Among the items, they learn, are four rather unusual furs (beaver, bear, sealskin, you get the idea) which they must collect from storage at a local furrier. Not having visited the city in more than three years, they find themselves mesmerized by the wonderful shop.

“We went in by way of the glove and stocking department, but there were things from other departments just dotted about; bottles of scent and a little glass tree with cherries on it and a piece of white branched coral on a sea-green chiffon scarf. Oh, it was an artful place – it must make people who have money want to spend it madly! The pale grey carpets were as springy as moss and the air was scented; it smelt a bit like bluebells but richer, deeper. 'What does it smell of exactly?' I [Cassandra] said. To which Rose replied: 'Heaven.'"

Now I’ve wondered a lot about heaven since I’ve been a Christian, but here’s one question I’ve never thought of: what exactly will heaven smell like? Will it have the homey scent of fresh-baked apple pie? The natural woodsy smell of pine? Freshness of a newborn babe? The intoxicating fragrance of my husband’s aftershave? Come to think of it, I just betcha heaven’s aroma will be all those delicious fragrances combined: it will smell homey, and natural, and fresh, and – oh, most definitely -- intoxicating.