You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy

I’ve said many times that I grew up in rural (VERY rural) northern New Hampshire. But I haven’t said that for the last 15 years, I’ve lived in cities. I prefer the cities. I like the services and conveniences of urban life (at least, “urban” by New Hampshire standards), and I think I would rather move to Massachusetts than move back to East Bum, Cow Hampshire.

That being said, there are certain things about the country life that I do miss. And last week I was reminded of one of them.

I was out for a drive, and I went past a freshly-mown field. The scent of fresh-cut grass overwhelmed me, and I very nearly pulled over in euphoria.

Then, a couple minutes later, I came upon a road project — replete with the stench of freshly-laid asphalt. I wanted to gag.

My heart and soul belong to the city, but my nose is still up north. And I think I’d rather smell fresh cow crap than hot tar.

So Long, Thanks For The Memories
Back In The Saddle Again...


  1. sabrina August 28, 2005
  2. goddessoftheclassroom August 28, 2005
  3. fatman August 28, 2005
  4. mark m August 29, 2005