Where I grew up, folks used to laugh at city people who objected to the smell of a farm. Knowing that, John and I used to say to each other as we drove in farm country, “Smell that fresh country air!”
I hadn’t thought of that for a long time until we walked to the creek on a breezy morning. The wind was coming off the mountains and swooping over the farm, catching every nuance. John took a deep breath and said, “Mature manure.”
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In general, I do like the smells of the countryside. The one I’ve never been such a fan of, though, is pig farming. My goodness, the odor could blast your socks off.
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Whew! I’m very grateful we did not move close to a pig farm.
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I would sometimes come across them when traveling through otherwise beautiful countryside. I guess things might not be so bad for the locals as long as they live upwind. 🙂
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We smell this in our neighborhood every day. There’s a big dairy farm right down the street from us and it’s not always pleasant, but you learn to forget about it.
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