By Deuteronomy T. Figg, Esq. (Unlicensed)
Published under mild protest by the Thistlewick-upon-Flint Council of Mild Interventions
“Scent of a Tempest: A Personal Method for the Pre-Sensory Detection of Meteorological Commotion (by the Nose Alone)”
Introduction: Why Me?
I was six years old when I first smelled a thunderstorm.
It was late Spring. I had just finished trimming the parsley hedge outside our cottage (we like a tidy herbaceous border in our family), when my nostrils caught what I can only describe as a vague tang of distant indignation. Five hours later, it rained. I was hooked.
Since then, I have honed this gift—not without controversy, setbacks, or mild accusations of madness from Mr. Prout the barber (who, it must be said, once thought his radio was haunted for a fortnight).
This pamphlet is my guide to the olfactory art of atmospheric intuition. Whether you seek practical warning, philosophical insight, or merely an excuse to sniff dramatically at clouds, I invite you on this journey.
Chapter 1: Understanding Atmospheric Scent
A thunderstorm has no single smell. It is a compound fragrance of betrayal, electricity, and botanical panic. I have identified the five principal olfactory signatures of a pending tempest:
- Ionic Crispness – The familiar “metallic” bite in the nostrils. Often described as “like licking a spoon that disapproves of you.”
- Disturbed Fern – A verdant anxiety, particularly common in woodlands and mossy areas. Usually accompanied by the sensation that squirrels are nervous.
- Sulphur’s Cousin – Not quite brimstone, but definitely a third cousin twice removed.
- Humidity with Intent – The warm, moist smell of air that is no longer content to be merely present.
- Sky Pollen – An elusive sharpness, as if someone has stirred the upper atmosphere with a broom made of violets and doubt.
Each of these can be detected with moderate training, or in my case, birthright and accident-prone sinuses.
Chapter 2: The “Sniff Spiral” Technique
If you suspect a storm is incoming, perform the following:
- Stand in an open area. Avoid cows (they interfere with nasal triangulation).
- Close your eyes. You must not see the storm. That’s cheating.
- Inhale deeply through the left nostril, then the right. Alternate three times.
- Exhale with a polite hum. This clears the spiritual vents.
- Announce your finding with confidence, regardless of accuracy.
Repeat hourly.
Chapter 3: Field Tests and Misfires
I have been documenting my findings for 22 years. Some notable entries:
- May 3rd, Year 1009: Detected what I believed to be a triple squall. Turned out to be the fishmonger boiling his nets.
- August 14th, Year 1011: Correctly predicted a flash storm 4.5 hours before it occurred. Celebrated alone with toast.
- December 29th, Year 1015: Detected a storm while inside a bakery. False positive due to cinnamon agitation.
These entries remind us that even the greatest noses are not infallible. But consistency over perfection remains the mark of a true storm-sniffer.
Chapter 4: Interpreting the Aromas
Not all storm scents are equal. Some suggest mere drizzle. Others herald theatrical skies. Here’s a reference chart: