There’s
something about living even remotely near a farm with livestock.
Now,
hold on. I don’t mean that lovely smell of spring, when fertilizer
is being spread, and the entire area suddenly is overwhelmed by
the aroma of manure that’s gone bad. Not that.
I’m
talking about something different.
Make
no mistake, it’s not clean. It’s something like a warm animal,
mixed with hay and dirt. A bit horse, a bit barn, a bit hard day
of work. And, I’ll be darned if there isn’t something soothing
about it. Same way a gardener might tell you about the smells
of different plants, or someone doing yardwork might find fresh
cut grass appealing, there is something about that horse and cow
and hay and dirt in the air that for some reason I kind of like.
The
funny part of the scent is that it often arrives without warning.
Remember
that manure? That’s a spring smell. Same deal with clothes drying
on the line. While nice throughout the spring and summer, the
cool air of April just makes the first few times you hang laundry
out to dry a bit different than all of the others.
And
I can tell you about the first fires of the fall, in October and
November, when a crisp autumn evening carries the smoke from burning
wood. That’s an awesome seasonal smell.
But
that livestock. It doesn’t seem to have a trigger.
Maybe
that’s me.
You
know the basics about harvesting. Let’s go back to that garden
for a moment. You might be able to tell me about preparing the
dirt in the early spring. Then there’s the smell of water on the
plants, which offers a distinctive fragrance. And speaking of
fragrances, have you ever smelled tomato plants? Head into a garden,
start picking vegetables, and there will be traces of all sorts
of differing smells as you move from one type to the next.
The
idea we’re trying to arrive at here is that as the life of an
annual garden moves along, the smells you experience may differ.
And those differences are triggered by whether your setting up
the garden, doing the first plantings, tending to weeds and feedings,
or harvesting. It’s all a garden, but the time of year creates
different results.
For
me, saying the horses must be out has no difference in April of
July. But to someone working on a farm, taking care of the animals
and the barns, there could be a wide range of reasons for why
smells kick up.
Maybe
one time involves the arrival of babies. Another could be… again,
I have no clue… the timing of fairs and harvests, with some being
prepared for show and others being brought into the fields for
work.
In
the end, on a cool summer evening, as I exit the house and meander
into the yard, I’m struck by the unmistakable realities that there
are horses and cows not all that distant from my home. And it’s
the same unmistakable reality that I have encountered in January…
encountered in March… encountered in October.
In
a few weeks I’ll begin sorting and planning for the winter around
here. Every time I fire up the lawn mower, I’ll be judging carefully
how much gas to add to the tank. The day of running the mower
until the gas tank is dry will be approaching, and I don’t want
it to be completely full on that day. And as I find chores to
get done while waiting for the tank to empty, break apart boxes,
empty some of the planters, and trim back shrubs, the engines
will be running, with gas and oil and a bit of motorized dirt
around in the air as I do.
It’s
a seasonal thing.
But
that doesn’t mean it’s a seasonal smell. And I sometimes wonder
exactly where those horses are. Because I do have a few apples
left on the counter, and I wouldn’t mind seeing if that scent
might lead me to a new friend.