I miss it already.

That sweet moment of my Wednesday nights where I plop down on the couch like an eager kid watching the Saturday morning cartoons and flip through the channels to one particular station. And when it was time, I would not leave that seat, or that position, until the credits rolled. Alas, Futurama, we knew you well.

And it was from one of the final episodes of that magnum opus of an animated show that I thought of a perfect little activity to fit in the rubric. In the second to last episode, Dr Zoidberg meets a rather lovely young lady, with whom he hits it off rather well. The caveat that allows him to date her? She has no sense of smell whatsoever, yet she sells flowers for a living.

And at one point in their courtship, the (not so) good doctor picks her a gardenia (excellent name for a pony by the way). And since she cannot smell, she asks him to describe it to her. And he does, very vividly and beautifully. "It's like summer... with a dab of vanilla and honey... or maybe winter with some gravy on it."

That prose form of description is what a reader wants to see! Something that combines elements of subtle beauty to paint a larger picture. So today, we're going to do a little exercise. I want you to pretend that I, the esteemed Klondike, am lacking in a sense of smell or that I am colorblind. Now put on your thinking caps, and describe to me your favorite scent or your favorite color. And remember, I don't know what any of these things are, so be creative!

Post your responses in the comments.

...I call dibs on Gardenia as a pony name.

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My favorite color is a burning warmth. It's the fire in your chest when embraced by a lover, or the warm summer heat when strolling though the woods. It's like a comforting blanket when taking a nap, and the fierce roar of a dragon when it breathes its flames. It's like the fury of an enraged mother or a caged fire, and it represents the strength in all humanity.

red.

I tried therefore nobody can criticize me.

1723336 F

1723341 A+

1723292 My favorite color is black....

I do not have a favorite color, although the royal color of purple is a prefered one. Yet I love a blinding display of color. Well scratch the blinding part, no use to rainbows if we can't see them. It is less worse than silent movie with their monochrome palette though. Give me the color of smiling, though we call it yellow. spring's color is vivid, very refreshing to see. Blood's color is also one of passion and love, is that irony or tragedy there? The sky's color is calming which is quite odd, since our favorite pegasus isn't that at all. Orange is the one I can't place. Sure it is full of vitamin C and Zecora has banned it from her vocabulary but that is all i got for it.

Not much prose, but flowery language is not a part of my brain.

1723292

My favourite colour?

My favourite colour is the colour of mystery, possibility, and wonder.

The ocean, as vast and as deep as the boundless skies above us all; glinting in the warm summer mornings, roiling during the shadowed storms. It is the icy chill of the winter, and the fresh mildew of spring.

It is the void of the night, and the brilliance of the day.

My favourite colour is blue.

(ain't very good at being poetic, might try again in a more natural style)

1723379
Huh. Guess I'm improving

1723292
It's the color of a steady mind and a world at ease. It's the coolness you want on a hot summer day. It's that uplifting feeling of floating on water. It's like a kind soul who lifts you up and makes you feel calm.

Blue.

That was kind of... meh... probably. Might come back later and try again with smell.

1723683

Huh.

Guess you could say we're...

...blues brothers.

YEEEEAAA- *cough*

Sorry about that.

It's memories of camping with my father, of backyard games and kickball at school. It's life about to happen, it's spring and autumn, it's the idea of nature at its purest. It's the feeling of knowing that I'm somewhere I'm supposed to be; somewhere right and good. Somewhere peace of soul can happen.

the smell of dirt

Hint:

A vicious scent kicks against my sinuses. It's a raw and primal thing, challenging me to push back against it. I close my nostrils, gather myself, and reopen them to take a deep draught of that stinging aroma. It pervades everything, working tiny fingers into the smallest cracks for miles around.

I'm starting to like it. It smells like cities, like vast urban sprawls collapsed upon the landscape. It works its filthy way behind my eyes, and they start to water. It springs and attacks the back of my brain, and now it's a part of me. It lives in me, and fuels me. I'm ready for a new life among the concrete monoliths of civilisation.

P.S it was Petrol.

There is a kind of stream that will support a population of trout, and this is called "trout water."

And there is a smell to the trout water in the San Gabriel Mountains of southern California, where I and my brother used to fish and hike with our dad and where we all caught our first fish.

And that smell is the smell of snow (which makes no sense unless you live in a place where it snows regularly--I didn't, growing up) and sharp with minerals and green with the algae that grows in long tough beards on the margins of the stream.

You become familiar with the smell, you move away, you forget it ever existed--and thirty years later you come back and you smell it again and you remember everything.

My favorite color is more fearsome than any fictional creature, exponentially more powerful than an entire ocean enveloping a single man, and has caused fear and wonder in the species capable of observing its nothingness. My favorite color is black.

Without my guy, this is hard

My favorite smell is something that offends and pleases all at the same time. It reeks of new life and of old deaths. The saltiness stings my senses and reminds me of the ancient world upon which I live and makes me understand the fleetingness of life. It serves as a reminder that, albeit short, my life and the lives of those around me is always worth living, if for nothing else than to experience the sensation of the rolling winds bringing my life's experiences to me and knowing the churning chaos that is the original birthplace of life itself.

The Ocean.
1723890
Well that's all I can do. Come on brother lets get the heck out of this parking lot.

My favorite color is a cool stroke of charged tranquility, though is often mistaken for indifference and passivity. My favorite color is blue (kingfisher blue, to be precise).

1723292
There are tales of an age long past. Tales of knights, of lords, of dukes, of century-spanning wars between monarchs. Between men and women whom were able to rally entire armies. Between men and women who belonged to noble houses, to families whose influence and power knew no bounds. To families that set out to control the world.

You may ask yourself "what does this have to do with your favorite color?" Yet, to he who truly wishes to know, the answer is as plain as day. For, what do memories of powerful families, of kings, of queens, of nobility bring to mind? Thoughts of honor and strength come to mind. Memories of nobility brings up emotions, feelings. For, if a color does not bring emotion, if it is not a way to express yourself, a way to know yourself, then what good is it? If it is not a medium, of which to deliver emotion, it is but a simple reflection.

That said, my favorite color is that which is the symbol of this age. Of power, of nobility, of strength. The color which I prefer above all others is that which brings thoughts of power, and birth-right. It is the color that conquerors and kings prefer above all others. It is the color of which only those whom have earned the right to know it, fully appreciate it. It is the dark, mysterious, powerful, beautiful shade of color known to man as purple: the shade of kings and emperors.

EDIT: Eh, I don't think that I like what I wrote here. I think that I'll come back to this, it's missing something. I just can't put my finger on it.

It's the sense of change upon the wind, bringing new life and new hope. It's the gentle kiss of the autumn breeze, kissing your face and letting you know of better things to come. It's the lovely smiles on little baby's faces. It's the soft teardrop upon an orphan crying for his parents. It's the shawl of the beauty of the world. It's a plastic bag blowing in the wind. It's... OH GOD I CAN'T DO THIS ANY MORE THE POIGNANCY IS KILLING ME!

It's 6pm in a ghost suburb, sun lazily retreating over thirty-year old buildings marked with illegibly stylised names in faded spray-paint, with only a few bored teenagers around, smoking and gossiping - school's out but dinner's not ready yet. The light stains everything the one colour, warm to bask in and deceptively cold to retreat from. Somewhere else, there might be a group of friends, watching the sun's injured retreat with a few beers, jokes and joviality. Such scenes exist here only in faded adverts, peeling paper on lopsided billboards, overlooking vacant lots, overgrown lawns, dirty semi-detached houses, and palm trees stranded far too far north for their liking. The colour will persist through the night, with servile street lamps keeping vigil until the sun returns to bleed over the concrete gangrene again.

I now present: RED.

Red is a fire that burns in your soul. Love, anger, that's what red is. It looks like a flame mixed with a rose. It catches your eye quickly and makes it linger. It's warmth that enfolds around you pain that makes you scream. Red is the color of love and anger.

Did I do OK?

As I sit on the park bench, eating an old and favored treat, I ponder my past and the events that led to me being the man I am now. I savor the rush of smooth, silky, and sweet flavor running across my tongue, I consider the burning in my heart to contrast the serene cool of my treat. It truly is a bittersweet moment, to parallel a bittersweet life. I've made mistakes, just as the moron who made the swirl on this thing go counterclockwise rather than clockwise did. It was my own fault, really. I let your brother get between us, just as I let my order be taken by a new employee. Daisy, you will remain unforgotten, just as much so as this Dilly Bar.

How was that?
Yes, I have to give a man eating ice cream a backstory.

1723379

Silver for it is like the summer breeze. Refreshing ones body with a touch of cool wind in the summer heat surrounding it.
The color that brings out the feeling of cold winter nights and yet reminds us that it's only a fleeting moment that recurs only once a year in our long life's and even it, has a beauty unique to the season. It is like snow that you can only see in one season. It is cold and yet you can craft the depiction of true beauty with it.
It is like a taste of soft drink you just picked up from refrigerator. Soothing and tasty.
And at the same time it is firm like a warriors grip on the sword. For it can entrance its audience like a duel between two master duelists. Such is the beauty of this color.

It's like walking under the shade of trees. You know, when the sun's up and you feel the heat seep through your skin, then all of the sudden that cool relief.

It's like partaking in tea ceremonies. Formal but relaxing. It is slightly bitter and grainy on the tongue, yet flavorful and soothing.

It's like new life at the verge of growing into something much more than it was.

color: GREEN; smell: PETRICHOR (or the scent of new rain on dry ground); I tried to make it work for both, but I think I failed somewhere for one or the other.

Colour? What's there to describe? You see what you see, mate.

Oh what? You wonderin' about what I really see, huh? Now, that's just silly. Why do you care so much about what I think about colour? Ah, then again, where we are now, small talk will do us some good, won't it?

I guess you could say I just like any colour that has a good meaning to it. Nothing really matters unless it means something to everyone else, you know? So, whether or not I like the sharp, wounding look of the Red depends where it is. Traffic lights, how they make your time chip away while you're in a hurry, that's a red I don't like to see.

But the red we just sew? It gave me some relief. Now, I don't mean I get horny or anything corny like that when I see blood, mate. You know perfectly well what I mean.

Now, don't bother telling me that you like pink or purple or whatever. I don't care much about that. Just tell me when the light goes green, so we can get out of here before they show.

If it's not too sharp, if it's not the pricking that reaches into the senses and hoists them loftily out of their daze, it is Christmas. It is wafer cookies on sprawling trays, some crumbling, others slabbed into layers, only a precious few of which emit it.
If it's not a gritty flashing, twisted into forceful gels that sting the mouth in webs under guise of flavor, it's bright green, sheerly smooth, calling.

{Mint}

1723292
My favorite color is often misunderstood and viewed as evil. It is as a cloak that conceals one from his enemies. Associated with shadows, it is embraced by people like myself who understand that it is not inherently evil. Even if it is often soured by the wicked.

black

When the day puts your body stressed out it while calm you down.
if books are in shelves and are around it while make you read them.
it makes anyone think of all the things that are in there life.
it is like the grass light but not to light.
In the inside of a lime you can find the color.
If you want sit in a place of pace and quiet I will till you to paint the walls that color.

Oh and my fav color is forest green but lighter.

How did I do for my first time can anyone tall me please?

1723292
My favourite color, you ask?

Well, let me tell you.

My favourite color is that of autumn, of the warm feeling that the falling leaves are giving you despite the cool breeze that makes you shiver and wish for a warm winter coat.
My farourite color is that of the sunset, of the last lights of the day when the sun kisses the earth goodbye for the night, leaving the world in soft starlit twilight.
My favourite color is that of a nation, as fierce and noble as a lion, that'll defend its inhabitants with all the strenght it has.
My favourite color are the soft teints of orange and red, that will warm you when you have enough of the colder shades of blue. They will light you up when you have enough of the darker shades of purple and indigo.

But add all colors up, and you will get a rainbow, that shimmers in the diffused light of the rain, a beacon of hope and joy for anyone. Only one color is not beautiful. More colors are beautiful together.

My favorite smell is sweet like a honey cake and strong like the blackest of coffees

My favorite color is that of death. It follows us from the beginning of life in every shadow we see. It is in the moonless night when we fear. It is in the funerals, and it covers a person no matter what color he was when he was living. It sucks all colors and turns them into itself. The end of all things can be represented by the color black. Why is this my favorite color? It is my favorite because death makes anyone equal. We all turn black regardless of our original colors. We lose our superiority or inferiority in the end. Let us not forget. We are equal. It is when rainbows lose their boundaries and some people may like rainbows over black, but I believe there is no nobler color than black.

My favorite smell is the smell of the Earth's baptism; the smell of the heavens' messengers on a mission to leave everything cleaner, more sharp, more beautiful. The smell is like stone, solid and reliable. It accompanies its creator like a dog on a leash. It enters your nose subtly and quietly, increasing in intensity like a cone in your nostril; by the time you notice it, it's already in deep. It's earthy and refreshing like a good cup of hot chocolate. It smells like mud and splashes and all the drizzly, happy things.

It's the smell of rain.

Not the best, but I'm proud of it.

1723292 Purple is the magic of a jazz song. It is like a cat. It is soft and like silk. Purple is like a chocolate cake. It is powdery like blush. Purple is when you are awake in the morning, but you have not opened your eyes, stilled wrapped in the world of your dreams.

My favorite color and favorite smell go hand in hand.

It is the chill of a winter's day. The shiver you get when a stiff wind envelopes your body, caressing it in its frigid arms. It is the representation of purity, innocence, and of all things holy. It adorns a blushing bride as she walks up the aisle toward the love of her life, the warm light that fills her heart a similar shade. It is comfort, and also inspiration. It is that first delicate flake that lands on your nose at the first snowfall.

The promise of warmth while grey clouds heavy with the first snow hang low overhead like a watchful mother. A scent that reminds you of the comfort of home surrounded by family and friends as the crackle of a fire nearby fills the room. It is the gatekeeper of memory, reminding you of the laughs you've shared and every tender moment with a love wrapped in your arms as you both sigh contently not carrying for anything save the beating of two hearts entwined. It is the foreshadow of that will come, the reassurance that in the end all will be well, that no matter how dark the world will et there is still that light.

My favorite color is the white of snow. My favorite aroma that of a blaze burning bright in a fireplace.

Of all the wondrous colors of different hues, there is but one that is my favorite to use.
It is a color of cold, lonely but bold.
A color most free, if you only could see!
Of infinite promise, it is open and honest.
Though much I might wizen, I will forever chase it on the horizon.
Oh beautiful blue, who ever knew there was so much to you?

I think I could do better. I got too caught up in the rhyming!

My favorite color is the smell of overpriced perfume, or a great fur coat draped across a throne. It is the color of the Empire of Rome, and a roaring ocean in the silky night. My favorite color is the box of ornate flowers in your backyard that need not be trimmed, only held high above the grass. It is the sky just as the sun peaks in the winter morning. My favorite color tries too hard sometimes.

My favorite color is purple!

Oh, one of my favorite colors is a brilliant, light blue. The color is like it shines, cold, but beautiful. It reminds me of a crystal, diamond, of clear waters. The color is quite peaceful, now can you imagine it?

My favorite color is one that's very straightforward and practical. It's the color that you see while taking every step of the way. My favorite color is the color of a kind of ice cream flavor or a material used for building and construction. It can be a mix of every color in the color wheel or the part of a tree.

My favorite color is Brown.