GOOD MORNING, FRIENDS

A REMEMBERAMBLE FOR SEPTEMBER 23, 2025

Tuesday already, and I was not yet done with Monday, I had another nap and a half I had not used, and you lose them if you don't use them, like those gift card things, and some bodily/health/medical/uhm, kinda things too, so THEY say. I recall saying in a post a few years ago that I loved the smell of tobacco curing in an old heart pine lumber, tobacco barn. It was "tre aromius" in the ancient-sounding nonsense language I just made up for this post.

In the comments, most folks agreed, like tobacco or not, it sure smelled good curing in those old barns. But per usual, a few detested the smell. A few might have really found the smell objectional, but there are those contrarians who never agree, nor even agree to disagree, they always by default, plain old disagree. I liked the smell of toxaphene sprayed on cotton, as well as the smell of fresh roofing tar going on, in the middle of a hot summer day, and the old style gasoline from when I was a boy.

Gosh, y'all, didn't those sheets and pillow cases that had dried on the line in the sun, smell so, so nice? We had senses of smell then, not dulled by time and mileage. We could smell sweet nursing puppy's breath, and I recall the sweet smell of a young calf's breath as it ate dried corn we fed it still on the cob. Yes, we smelled fresh mowed hay, and ozone when lightning was close by and cleansed the sky. I could smell a bag of lemons from across the room.

I could even smell the cheesy and rank smell of a diamondback rattler. My brothers and I could pretty much know what mama was fixing...I love that use of the word fixing, as it grates on the nerves of yankees...for supper, as we played outside on warm evenings, by the wonderful aromas that wafted to us. Sorry, wafted is not a good southern word, but I will allow it this one time.

As we played outside awaiting the supper call, we were mindful to not do so within sight or earshot of mama, lest she put us to doing something. That was a clear and present danger at all times in those days. I was thinking yesterday about how I miss having yard chickens, particularly bantams. I love watching a flock of bantams just being bantams. My first chickens I had as a boy were those evil, wicked, but tasty-fried, debble-chickens, white leghorns.

After they justly met their maker, I set upon wanting bantams. I asked daddy if he knew anyone who had bantams they might sell. He did, and took me to get some, in the Dellwood Community, on a Sunday morning early. Daddy pulled around behind an old house, with a pen filled with a nice bunch of bantams, of all colors and persuasions. Daddy shut his car off, and rolled his window down, and said, "hush now."

Then, a man peeped out through the curtains he had pulled slightly apart, and quickly pulled them shut again, after giving daddy a nod. Honestly right then, I was a dumb youngun and figured it was unlawful to sell bantams on Sunday, seeing the subterfuge they were both engaging in to facilitate the old guy coming outside to oversee me catching a nice selection of bantam chickens, to go. Later, it turned out that it was not unlawful to sell bantams on Sunday.

It was unlawful to sell booze on Sunday. He evidently sold a lot more adult beverages on Sunday than bantam chickens. I told this on the group here in a post years ago, and I recall that Jack Hodges knew exactly who the man was after reading that post. I never did know his name. It has turned dry around here right as much of the cotton was about made, but needed just a rain or two to finish making. Pray these farms get rain, some are irrigated but natural rain is better for many reasons, including it being free.

I hope this finds you well, and this day is a good. NUMBERS 6: 24-26 KJV

.....we boyz three, babee conway, lil merle, & me