I like the smell of cow manure...

Yep. I sure do. I admit it proudly. Andy, Ava and Luke are pretty sure I am crazy (and they have a small case). This past week we were down in Iowa visiting Andy's parents, grandmas, and other relatives and we were in farm country. I love driving around and seeing the tall corn with its tassels starting to emerge. I love having my window down and catching the different scents of the farms (I do have a few exceptions to what I consider good smells, pigs and any kind of poultry are NOT good smells). I love being able to smell the rain coming and watch thunderstorms roll in across the fields. I love the smell of freshly cut hay. And yes, I love the smell of cow manure. Not like I want to smell it all of the time, kind of love. Or have a cow manure scented candle burning in my house (Andy's suggestion). But I love the memories it brings back. Memories you don't think of very often. Memories that are attached to smell. Memories of baby calves sucking on your fingers, or on your clothes for that matter. Memories of wandering around for hours in a cow pasture with your brother looking for snapping turtles that weighed just about as much as he did (and would scare us both half to death when we would actually find them!). Memories of our neighbor boy, who was as tall as dad, having to hold my dad's hand when we walked through the pasture because he was scared of the cows (my brother and I thought that was hilarious). Memories of seeing a calf being born, sometimes at 3 a.m. in February, oops! Memories of calves in the bathtub in the house trying to warm them up because they got too cold (wow, I have a patient mom!). Memories of a childhood growing up on a farm I loved. The farm and the cows have long been sold (or eaten) but my love for the farm remains. And so does my love of the smell of cow manure.