Our house sits at the bottom of a hill, near a small creek. Ever notice as you’re driving through the country, how, when you get to the bottom of a hill, the temperature drops about 5 to 10 degrees? It just “feels” different.

We were sitting outside the other night when the cool breeze mixed with the smell of harvest, and I had to breathe it in. My husband, on the other hand, thought I was crazy. I claim his sniffer must be off because they were harvesting in the field directly across the road, and to the south about a half mile. How could he not smell it? The musky smell of corn dust, mixed with oil and fuel from the combine, tossed in with a little dirt and dried corn shuck? It’s distinctive. And unmistakable.

Having a nose full of harvest smells at their best, I then proceeded to have a sneezing fit. That was the allergies kicking in. I’m not sure how I survived all these years being allergic to dust, mold, pollen, grass, trees, pets, you name it. Maybe it just made me stronger because for some reason, I just can’t help but enjoy the scent this time of year brings. The only thing that would make it better is if a nearby neighbor would burn off their leaf pile. Or start up their wood fireplace.

Bring on the hayrack rides and marshmallows. Please.

Until we walk again…