You know by now that I am a crafter, so my sense of sight and touch are important to me.  We have a small farm, so my sense of hearing is important to the life of our critters.  The predators around us are pretty good about making some type of noise when they are on the move.

My mother blessed me with the love of speech.  She grew up in the era without that crazy thing we call a TV.  During that time period, you had to know how to hold a conversation, and she was prime at it.  She also taught us all (including dad, who became better at it than her) the art of “picking with love” of which I am a perfect target.  We understood that if someone in the family was not picking on you, they didn’t like you.  The more we teased and picked at each other, the greater the love was.  Apparently, I was (still am) very much loved.  My dad’s two favorite nicknames for me were:

• Rimp: From the cartoon series, The Jetsons. Astro, the dog, was picking on George when he was shrunk by saying: “Rook at the Rimp!”  Since I was the shortest of the three daughters, it was my honor.

• Dumb Shit: This one was his way of telling me that I had a great idea, I just didn’t think it through very well: “Ya Dumb Shit, why did you put the open paint can right by your feet?”  (Note, this was ALWAYS said with a smile, and sometimes he had a hard time holding back the giggles while reprimanding me.)

Taste goes a long way in my senses because my sister (whom I live with on our farm) is a bake-a-holic.  She is constantly making up something.  She loves to try new ideas and recipes, and will occasionally try to slip a hot pepper in on me (FYI: Hot peppers and I do NOT get along at all!!).  I love that she loves doing most of the cooking as I do not – however – leaving things like fresh baked Italian bread or still warm fudge brownies lying around is not a good thing.  Since I am home to smell these all day long, it is only fair that I must snack on them as I walk by – every time I walk by – several times a day.  (And my doctor wonders why I can’t lose weight – duh!)

   

(This was this morning’s teaser: Apple, Bacon, Pancake – awesome!!)

Out of all the human senses, my sense of smell has to be my most favorite.  The above paragraph helped to explain part of the reason – kitchen smells.  Our mom burned a pan of water down to a metal pile on the stove (now there’s a smell you do NOT forget) while trying to boil water for noodles.  She hated to cook, and it was obvious why she married dad – he loved to cook.  He was fantastic at it.  Cooking was one of dad’s greatest passions in life.  We were the top cookers when it came to family get-togethers.  Football games, holidays, even hay-baling hay were all perfect excuses for dad to whip something up.  I remember helping him cut up fruit for the fruit salad (main staple) for every party.

The fall corn roast involved going out with him very early in the morning,  on the day of the roast, into the field.  The pickers had already come through an obtained what they needed for canning, the rest that they missed (which was always a lot) was now ours to claim.  He would drive the tractor while we walked beside the wagon behind the tractor.  Our job was gathering up the missed ears and tossing them onto the wagon.  Then we would bring them all up to the back yard where a huge horse tank filled with water, and tons of ice would be waiting to prep the corn.  Throwing the cobs into the tank was always a ball because we would be tossing them from the wagon into the tank – not always making the tank.

When people started showing up, the best smells started:

• Icy ears of corn cooking on a huge open grill (made from a metal barrel because grills were not that huge back then).
• Hotdogs, hamburgers, and the occasional steak that someone would bring in for themselves were also on that grill.
• The kids usually went directly to the hay barn (major smell) first since we always made forts and tunnels in the bales. We also had a great rope swing to sail down from a platform into the chopped straw pile.

I find it funny now that I can be doing a simple drive into town, pass by someone cutting their hayfield, and get an instant flashback from the smell.

I love touch because it helps with crafting.  I love hearing the birds sing.  I love tasting all my sisters great cooking.  I love to see the change of season colors.  But my strongest and most favorite would have to be smell.  It just brings back so many great memories in a heartbeat.

You can also check me out at:  https://lifelessonslived.com/ for all the fun things I have learned in life.

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