Reinhardt Family History
Memories of Eggs and Chickens
Stories from Neil Reinhardt
Sense of Smell
I shall never again enjoy the smell of potato vines as when they were pulled to reveal the tubers that were put in the cellar to feed the family for the coming winter.
I shall never again ride behind a team of sweating horses as they pulled a plow, and enjoy the smell of the newly turned earth. The odor of the sweating horses mingling with that of the neatsfoot oil used to oil the harness.
Today a tractor pulls a gang of plows so fast you do not have time to smell the good earth, only the stink of the diesel engines as it labors to pull the plows. If one is fortunate enough to be driving a tractor with a cab and air conditioning, you would not even smell that.
Even hay today has an entirely different smell after it come from a large, blue, glass-lined silo. After feeding the cattle, one must shower and change clothes, or be shunned by everyone if he walked in his working clothes into a room full of people.
I cannot enjoy the smell of burning leaves in the Fall - so I'd light a match to enjoy the fun of boyhood. Just after I had the smoke billowing to the sky, there would be the screeching of sirens, red lights flashing, and men in rubber coats and boots would come running...dragging water hose to put the fire out. All that would be left would be a little stinking ashes.
I will never again be greeted by the smell of loaves of bread lined up on the table to cool as I came from school.
All that is left for me is the smell of vines as I clean up the little garden I have behind the garage and put them in baskets or bags to be hauled away. Somehow in the corner of the garden there is the faint perfume of a little flower that escaped the frost.