I tilled up my small field today. The heavenly aroma of the freshly turned soil triggered a memory from days long gone past.

Cain was a tiller of the ground back in the day and Abel was a keeper of sheep. Perhaps all farmers are descendants of these two boys.

Just some Sundsy musings.






"Error does not become Truth because it is widely accepted; Truth does not become error, even when it stands alone"
(Thanks Kristy)

edited only for spelling

That the smell of turned soil beats the smell of sheep shit, any time.

-Vince

When my neighbours are fertilizing their hay fields, the aroma is so powerful it will clear my sinuses. Now in May when the wild honeysuckle is in bloom, that aroma mixed with the smell of the manure is enough to to put the finest french perfumes to shame.





"Error does not become Truth because it is widely accepted; Truth does not become error, even when it stands alone"
(Thanks Kristy)

about french perfumes.

-Vince

Even in the city, I can smell when the farmers are tilling. A rich and pungent odor. Some may find it repugnant, but from this soil along with seed, water and sunshine - comes life.