Yesterday, while I was using a pitchfork to get some hay for the chicken pen, I remembered Grandmother and Granddaddy Atkinson's hay barn. As I pulled layers of hay from a round bale, the smell of that hay knocked me back in time. All the way back to the mid-70's when my sisters, my cousins and I would play hide-n-seek in a barn stacked tall with square hay bales.
Today I cut the grass around a fig tree and remembered the one in Mama and Papa Skaggs' back yard. My memory isn't so much of the figs, but of the back yard. Always well-manicured, with a small garden and a work shed full of tools.
I wonder what smells will remind our grandchildren of us. Maybe it will be...
Chicken scratch feed
Fresh cut grass
Chocolate Oatmeal cookies
Smoke from a fireplace
Cabbage Patch doll heads
Pine woods while on a walk
Homemade pizza fresh from the oven