My Grandfather, with much help from my Dad, built a cabin in the mountains above Boone, N.C. in the late '60s-early '70s. My most cherished childhood memories are of times in and around that cabin. Since we only got up there once or twice a year, it always had that "musty" smell when we entered. The cabin is still in the family, now belonging to my Dad's only surviving sibling, my aunt, and we try to get up there at least for a weekend each year. It still has that familiar smell and I love it.
Also, there's something about the smell of an old fashioned hardware store. All ours are long gone, but there's one we step into in West Jefferson when we're up at the cabin that has that distinctive smell that takes me back to my childhood.
