Our human sense of smell can be a powerful memory trigger at times,I know the ones that take me back how bout you..

Sex Wax
Orange Blossoms
Norell
Santa Ana winds
Pacific Ocean

aqua velva, my dad used it when i was a kid.

Cedar oil
Balsam oil
Burning leaves
Pumpkin pie

White Diamonds perfume mixed with baby powder....

One time a few years back, I opened a box that had contained Christmas items and had been stored in the attic of the house in which I grew up and which had not been opened for years. There was a frame with a panel in the ceiling of the hallway of that house. To access the attic, you lifted the panel and set it to the side. The only thing that we kept up there was the Christmas stuff. Early in December of each year when I was the right size, Dad would lift me up, I would set the panel aside, he would lift me up so that I could pull myself into the attic, I would had down the boxes to him, he would make a remark about just leaving me up there, and then I would lower myself, and he would grab me by the hips, I would replace the panel, and he would lower me to the ground. The attic was always cold and had a clean smell, predominantly of wood and balsam needles that had incorporated themselves into the boxes over the years. When I opened that box, the attic smell hit me like a shot to the face and I was instantly transported back across the years to a simpler time long ago. Thanks for reminding me of it.

I was visiting a friends cabin several years ago during winter. The cabin was in an are with a poor selection of types of wood for the cabin woodstove so to supplement the poor quality wood they bought a load of coal.

When I smelled the coal smoke it triggered some unexplainable memory from long ago. It was as if I had been around that coal smoke before. Strange thing is, I was only about 30 when this happened and I doubt whether I had ever been around a coal fire before since even in '69, when I was born, most folks had long since gone to fuel oil for heating.

Tarweed
Blendzall 2 cycle oil
A certain strippers hair
Freshly tanned furs
A sweaty horse
Spent shotgun shells
Antelope
Puppy breath

Diesel Gas
Brewing Yeast
Gun powder

Adam

That smell of a canvas tent warmed by the sun reminds of camping trips when I was young.

The smell of the desert in the morning after a rare thunder storm is so fresh and clean. That's specially potent after several months of drought.

The smell of a pine forest on a warm summers day is always welcome.

Nothing wakes me up better than the aroma of coffee perking and bacon frying.

KC

Wood smoke
Sunday supper
Saturday's fresh cut grass
Springtime in the South--especially, along the Appalachian Trail.
Horses and the barn
Honeycomb
Atlantic Ocean
Fresh vegetables from our gardens.
Grandfathers Old Spice
My late Grandmother's purse, which always had candy and gum in it.

Are we talking about the smells from my past, as in behind me, directly behind me?

Wet leaves in fall.

Clean wood smoke.

My Mom.

You smelling ingwe's hot breath on your neck?

Smell of boiled coffee, oat meal and toast with the woodsmoke wiff from the cookstove in my Grandma's kitchen, the smell of the gunsmoke from the empty from a single shot 20 gauge on a November morning in a duck blind with my dad, the smell of an overheated gun in other times

Coffee perking on the stove. That is what I woke up to every morning as a kid.
Honeysuckle in bloom. There was a patch on the road bank outside my bedroom.

FlyboyFlem;
I trust this finds you well this fine fall evening sir.

Let's see here, smells from my youth.

Paper shotgun shells and Hoppes No 9. We had a long bird season in Saskatchewan and a short deer season, so if you loved hunting and I certainly did, you chased birds - so I did!

Diesel fuel and oil soaked into the wooden shack Dad used for a fuel storage building. I guess that must be just a farm kid thing, but it triggers good memories for me.

The aroma of fresh cut grain reminds me of our time farming as well.

Christmas goose roasting. We didn't raise turkeys, but had two geese and a gander that would each raise a batch every year. Goose smells different than turkey to me when it's roasting.

Cedar wood being burned in a campfire. Reminds me of the camping trips we've taken to Vancouver Island and the Queen Charlotte Islands. If I can find it, I burn cedar dunnage now when we go camping just to remind me of those trips.

Horse sweat, heck anything in the tack room actually. We had a couple when I was growing up and then we had them for 16 years after we were married. Though we don't currently have any, I still like to wander into the tack room from time to time just because.

Well that's enough from this Canuck. Thanks so much for the thread sir and for triggering a plethora of grand memories this evening.

All the best to you and yours and good luck on any upcoming hunts as well.

Regards,
Dwayne

ewwwwwe.

beer bubbles in my nasal cavity... it burns...

1. Noxema skin cream - My Dad used it after he shaved.
2. Wet Currant bushes in the fall - Many hunting trips with my Dad in Alaska
3. The smell of dust being kicked up by the first raindrops.
4. Old gear lube - My first car, a 1961 Studebaker Lark VIII had a gear lube stain in the rear driver's side floorboard.
5. The smell of a fired .22lr case on a crisp fall morning.

And one that, as much as I want to, I have never been able to rid myself of, the smell of a fresh, violent human death.

Ed

I shoulda known better!!

Those beer bubbles in your nasal cavity might burn too.

You didn't say smells that bring back pleasant memory's and after the last couple decades we've had I would think there would be quite a few that could generalize it by just saying the smells of war.


Phil

Anyone remember the smell of a canvas tent that was waterproofed with wax and gasoline?

My Dads baseball glove.
My Cousins tack room.
Smelling the end of my capgun.
My uncles pipe tobacco.

One smell from the past I hope to never smell again is hog fat being rendered into lard. One smell I keep with me each year is Hoppes #9

How about the smell and taste of the cracklins

Mellorine at granddads. Also, pine forests and Christmas trees

As I recall, if you smell them you also taste them.

+1. I still smell it every day at work and each time it transports me back to Grandpa Marvin's shed by the range where he taught me how toshoot and clean my firearms!

BN

Lady that kept us kids during the day used to fry hog chitterlings. UGH!!

Puppy breath. Reminds me of the dog's I've been blessed with over the years.

they kind of coat your mouth too

The smell of fresh, raw cow's milk in the pail
The smell of a freshly spent shotgun shell
The smell of a skunk when I cross the Oklahoma border at night after working out of state for months

Burned 700x

Papaws big cedar gun cabinet, and holiday cooking at Mamaws,

WD-40
Hoppes #9
Old Spice after shave
The smell of a Winchester 30-30 after you fire one that has been lubed with 3 in 1 oil

Gunner

Vitalis...

Grandpa used it in his hair. You could catch a faint whiff of Vitalis from the bed pillows for years after he passed.

A freshly opened condom pack....wish I was 18 again!

Bore cleaner and creamy thighs.

hoppes #9.
my wife hates it.
My mom and I,it would take us back to the late 1960's.Used to be a common smell in our house then.

Oh, yeah! I think that Dad was their biggest customer. There was probably enough in the sweat bands of his hats so that he could have gone at least a year without a new application.

Fresh cut alfalfa. Takes me back to the ten years of custom harvesting I was into. Wouldn't take a million dollars for the memory and wouldn't take a million to do it again.

Tilled soil makes me smile -- inside 'n' out -- as does freshly mowed hay, or the smell of the woods in fall - or a stream. I associate those scents with very pleasant times of younger days.

Oh! an orchard this time of year - soooooo wonderful.

Days work plug tobacco. Grandaddy used to cut a wad off the plug with the knife that I hope to own one day.

Cow crap. It sounds weird but I grew up in dairy country and that was the smell of money.

Natural gas. I have always worked in the Industry and the smell means I am home. Wherever that may be.

Hoppe's!

Remembered another-the smell of a fresh fired paper shotgun shell.

Not smelled boiled coffee on a wood stove since this morning. There was sausage and eggs so fresh they were still warm to go along with the coffee. Will not get to enjoy that smell again until tomorrow morning.

Pipe tobacco. Personally hated the stuff but my dad smoked it until a few years ago.

You just don't see people smoking pipes much anymore.

The one smell I'll never forget is not a pleasent smell. Had a secretary once who had a big hairdo 60's style with about a gallon of hairspray in it. One day she was talking on the phone with a cigarette in her hand. She turned to look at something and whooosh the whole harido went up. Pretty nasty smell but I'll never forget it. She probably won't either.

Hey Nathan as my tagline says,,,,,,,

"on the town . . . . on the campus . . . . for leisure and pleasure, smoking a Kaywoodie Pipe is, more than ever, the badge of the modern masculine male" (Kaywoodie ad, circa 1960).

LOL!

Bob

Freshly fired paper shotgun shell


but I was scared to open this.....figured Woody had beans last night

One of my favorites.

I dated a girl back in the early 90s and sometimes when I
think about her I swear I can still smell her perfume.

Don't have any of my dad's old Keywoodies and did not know they were still made but I do still enjoy a pipe now and again. Sometimes mt wire or my daughter will ask e to fire it up and they love the smell.

OOOOHHHH..A Norton Oilstone! You now officially SUCK! Do they still make those?

Ed

Yep. I have an electric water wheel too. It is great for reshaping knives wit broken tips.

On butchering days I gather up my sharpening stuff and stay busy keeping everything sharp. Beats the heck out of working!

I know this thread is about smells, but seeing that picture brings back the memories of the sound that a good knife blade makes sliding across an oilstone, the sound of a file on an axe blade, and the sound of a razor being stropped.

It's all good!

Ed

My list would include paper shot shells still smoking. Kids today will never know that smell but I can smell it every time it has been mentioned here.

Rain in the dust is one to remember.

Bread fresh from the oven.

Shalimar will always turn my head.

A Ceder forest in the Fall.

Bread pudding and or rice pudding.

Fresh apple pie.

Oh man....

Freshly fired paper shotshells. (I've got a supply of about 600 paper Federal Champions that I dole out carefully and reload, so I still get to experience that smell. Load 'em with Red Dot.)

Wood smoke.

Diesel exhaust and fresh turned earth.

Old Spice aftershave.

Two stroke outboard exhaust on a cool morning.

Tire smoke......

Fraser fir trees.

My wife's hair.

Bacon frying.

Hoppes #9 air freshner

spring rain on the sagebrush
wet pines


The talk of coal brought me back to my grandparents house. Many greats have already been mentioned like puppy breath and fired 22 or shotgun shells

"Bounding through the briers" behind Dad and Grandfather (struggling to keep up, actually) as they hunted bob-whites and doves, I learned in those blessed years between diapers and chalk boards the incomparable pleasure of sniffing the still-warm paper shot shells that Dad's Parker and Grandfather's L C Smith left behind.

In my early twenties, I lubricated the gate of my big 35mm Simplex movie projector with sandalwood oil. Exquisite. Unforgettable. Impossible to describe.

I can still remember both aromas but can not imagine being able to say that one smelled better than the other.

High and far back in the Cabinet Range late one summer night in 1956, I held a new-born fawn in my arms, buried my face in its velvet-soft flank, and sniffed. The odor was faint, clean, woodsy, incomparable, indescribable, and unforgettable. (Friends asked what it smelled like. "Like a new-born fawn � what else?")

My hunting partner Wyatt Keith killed a hawk and bade me smell its breast feathers � faint, clean, woodsy, incomparable, indescribable, and unforgettable. (Like the breast feathers of a hawk, of course.)

another really great thread fellas, baskin in memories here

The smell of my mom's homemade cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. Fortunately, my wife is the only one that learned that recipe before my mom passed away.
The smell of hot brakes, hot clutches and hot tires in the pits at a race track.
The smell of a doug fire/pine forest in the spring

Noxema
The salt marsh
Scrapple
Two stroke exhaust
Hospitals
Thanksgiving

Since I've made some of my living in the pines I have a lot of those scents.

The scent of really really dry pine straw in the summer when it's 103F out. Almost smells burnt.

The smell of really wet and musty pine straw out in the woods, almost smells like mildew.

The sickly sweet smell of rotting sugar cane husk. Growing up in sugar cane country come the late fall and early spring you smelled this one a lot. Once you smell it you never forget it.

The smell of my first son after I gave him his first "bath" in the hospital waiting room.

The smell of my Father's wood working shop when he was cutting walnut, the wood he most often used.

The stench of my maternal grandmother's kitchen, hell the entire house, when making baccala soup.

Coal fired locomotive, or tangy aroma of oil fired locomotive.
Water soluble cutting oil in band saw.
Creosoted railroad ties and trestle timbers on a hot day.
Kerosene lanterns and stoves.
Hay loft freshly loaded with oat, timothy and alfalfa hay.
Absorbine Veterinary Liniment.
Aroma of a tack store with new Levis, boots, saddles, bridles and harness.
The aroma of a horse bathed in Vetrolin Liniment as the cooler comes off.
Neatsfoot oil, saddle soap and shoe polish.
Aroma of fired IMR-4198.
Hot dog like aroma of dynamite smoke and nitroglycerin based shotgun powder.
Old Spice.
Hoppies No 9 they should sell little blotter paper deodorizers to hang in the gun safe and dangle from the rear view mirror.
Aroma of homemade bread baking.
Drifting aroma of food vendors and popcorn stands at the fairgrounds.
Coffee when the stopper comes out of the Thermos bottle.

Salt marsh..grew up on one.
Cedar bog
Stuffed cabbage cooking
Cam-2 in a muscle car
puppy breath
wet dogs

smell of a Greyhound or Continental Trailways station, beaver caster, and a branding iron hitting the hide

Tar. We used to use tar for a lot of stuff. Olsen for tarring the fishing nets, tar and chip roads, oiling down dirt roads, coal tar, all kinds of stuff. Not harly any anymore. Not PC, I guess.

Grandads Christmas cigars and roast duck.

Every Christmas he always had to have cigars after all the gifts had been opened, every adult male was given a cigar regardless. Didn't matter to him if you normally smoked or not every adult male had to at least light a cigar and have a puff. His other tradition was roast duck for Christmas dinner.

I'm glad I'm not the only paper cartridge smoke addict here too, I always loved that smell.

The fog over a good duck swamp, it has a different smell to other fog, or maybe it's just the excitement makes it smell different.

Torn earth, wild boar, blood and dogs all mingled together. I hunted wild pigs with dogs from the time I was 12 till almost 30 and the combination of all those smells will always be with me.
Also the smell of our old dog food bath, we used to get road kill animals, sheep or goats, sweet potatoes and rice, mix it all together in an old cast iron bath full of water and build a fire under it, boil it for an hour or two then scoop it out for the dogs. Not a particularly pleasant smell but it holds good memories of all the dogs and the kennels, watching pups grow and become a good dog (the ones that wouldn't become good dogs didn't get to grow for long, guess we were harder on animals back then and nicer to people)

The smell of a shearing shed after a week of shearing sheep, a mix of sheep manure, lanolin, sweat and DB draught beer (the best beer ever made when you've been working hard)

The smell of camphor wood always reminds me of my grand mothers old chest, it was full of hand made frilly lace and my grand fathers hand knotted doillies (those lacey things old folks used to put under their ornaments).
My grandfather was a perfectionist, he'd spend night after night sitting with a big ball of fine cotton thread knotting those things into intricate designs. I remember he had about two months work into a big table cloth when he noticed he'd made a mistake. He never unpicked any of it to fix it, just balled it up and threw it in the fire then started again. He was like that with everything, no patience for fixing mistakes but all the patience in the world when it came to doing something right first time. He was an amazing craftsman, he used to make wooden aircraft propellers during WWII. They were so finely balanced a fly was enough to throw the weight out. He did the finest inlay work with native NZ timbers, creating all sorts of scenes using the different colours, grains and textures of the timbers to create depth and contrast.

Sorry for taking this off track a bit, remembering the smells made me a bit nostalgic.

"Hoppies No 9 they should sell little blotter paper deodorizers to hang in the gun safe and dangle from the rear view mirror."

Wrangler, they do make 'em! We sell 'em at the shop. But IMHO they aren't very strong....

BN

Hoppes # 9: Instantly transports me to the plywood table in the basement where Dad taught me how to clean a .22. And my wife LOVES the smell, too!

Exhaled smoke from a Viceroy cigarette: I hate smoke, but I can still smell 1973 in my grandma's kitchen, not long before she gave up smoking.

A corn field in late July or early August: Whatever happens with the esters as the corn matures smacks me hard saying, "Summer's on its way out, & school's starting soon."

A standing rib roast after about 4 hours the oven: I started this Christmas tradition in my home. I feel fat after just one whiff!

Kolaches coming out of the oven: takes me to gorgeous spring days visiting Grandma in Southeast Texas.

Pecan-smoked brisket & link sausage: Ditto.

Evergreens on a mountain hillside: to this flatlander, that smell tells me I still need to rethink where I've chosen to live.

Autumn leaves on a forest path: a smell that tells me God goes out of His way every day to show me how much I'm loved.

Diesel fumes from a charter bus: takes me back to my drum corps days.

First grass cutting of the season: intoxicating.

A campfire: warmth, safety, perseverance, family, friendship.

FC

Cedar Swamp

Hoppes 9

"Grandpa's Basement" - Kind of a musty, oiled, old stuff smell

Beaver Castor

That first wiff when you open up a whitetail on a frosty morning

WB Cut chew

An old diesel sub has it's own unique smell - due to the oils used by the USN at the time.. And a certain oil sold by Brownell's smells exactly like it.. Every time I use it, I'm reminded of the service..

Burning leaves - which used to be very common within the city when I was a kid.. Around late October the smell of smoke from burning leaves was prevalent.. Of COURSE we can't have all that stuff NOW!!!

So many smells that bring back good memories.
Fresh fired paper shotgun hulls.
Fresh turned earth. I quit row cropping thirty years ago but the smell of the earth turning back from the middle busters stays with me yet.
Branding iron on cow hide.
Fresh picked cotton when you bury your nose in the bale wagon.
Muscadine grapes when you come up on them unexpected in the woods.
Cooking syrup. Wood smoke and hot sugar

I'll pile on with the old paper Super-X shotgun shells. Also love the smell of the sage prairie after a hail storm and the smell of branding day.

The smell of leaves in the fall, cornfields when you walk through them pheasant hunting, papershot shells.

We had a gunsmith here who worked out of his garage for 35+ years.

Re-barreling was his specialty but he did it all.

His shop had a distinctive smell of lathe oil, pipe smoke, walnut, and bluing chemicals.

He died in 1992.

Three years later I was looking at a pre-64 M70 that had been re-chambered to .30 Gibbs. Guy selling it was out of work and had a family to feed.

I picked it up and it smelled of that same combination of lathe oil,pipe smoke, walnut,and bluing chemicals.

Last thing that I needed was .30 Gibbs, but I gave the gent his asking price without any further bargaining.

RIP Mr. Baker. Thanks for the afternoons spent in your shop.

Old Spice or Bay Rum-dad.
Hai Karat-high school, a TR-3 and Boones Farm.
Old Enlish-basic training, 1972.

Paper fresh off the mimeograph machine.

Ammonia used (or spilled) in a blue line machine.

Looks like Hoppes and paper shotgun shells are the winners here. For me it's Hoppes. I takes me back to when I was about nine years old and fascinated with all my Grandfather's guns and the fun I had cleaning them. He had me rub gun oil on the stocks and it was many years later that I learned how wrong that was. I think of him every time I open the Hoppes. Mom's fresh baked bread is a smell I sure miss. Me and my brothers could eat it almost as fast as she could bake it. Good post. Ken

a hot 2 stroke yamaha Alcohol engine, mixed with sand and the smell of stale beer.

Dry, dusty ground after light, speckling sprinkle.

Hoppe's No. 9...
I drank a 4oz bottle when I was 4 years old (60 years ago).
My parents tell me it caused quite a fuss at the time. Had to get the 'ol stomach pumped.
I still like the smell, although my tastes for liquid refreshment has changed some over the years.....

Used to have a cartoon that showed two young women talking in the foreground while beyond 'em two guys were looking at guns.

"Getting Rod to propose was easy. Instead of Chanel Number Five, I wore Hoppe's Number Nine."

My wonderful grandmother. She cared for five of us - three cousins, my brother & me. In the late 1940's and early 1950's. A kind, soft, pleasant woman always in an old lady print dress, heavy black shoes, with nylons rolled half-way up her legs. Smelled of a combination of the most recent meal she cooked, always fresh garlic, a hint of red wine, and an indescribable old woman scent.
I�ve been in public a few times and caught that smell. In a nanosecond, it made me 5 years old again with great memories.

Hoppes No.9
Pawpaw's basement
The mountains of Virginia and West Virginia around Tazwell and Mercer counties.

Ernie

Every time I go to see Mom (86 now)I walk in the house and remember
years gone by.
Something todays kids will never remember, the smell of cigar smoke at a baseball game coming from the old men behind us, any cigar smoke now reminds me of the ball games that dad and I went to when I was very young, I can almost taste the peanuts.

Wood fire in the den
First puff of a diesel tractor
Aqua Velva
Old Spice, original - tried it when I was about 12 'cause I wanted to be cool like my Uncle, felt like gasoline....

Good memories:

Hoppe's #9

Fresh made pork sausage frying on the wood cook stove. Right along with fresh bake Sicilian Twist bread.

Freshly fired paper shotgun shells.

Real BP smoke.

The small barn on the farm on a cold winter day when I went down to milk.

Not so good;

Hot G.I. canvass.

Hot aluminum & hot gun barrels.

JP & turbine exhaust.

Anybody mention the smell of a paper .410 shell that had just gone off on a crisp November morning??

Sweet fern. Just introduced my wife and kids to this wonderful smell recently.
Cedar forest in the fall.
A forest floor layered with freshly fallen poplar leaves.
Patchouli; some special memories of some memorable years spent with a certain someone.

FYI guys, Rio is making paper hulled shotshells in reduced pressure loads. I don't know if they smell the same, but they're cheap enough to gamble a few bucks to find out.

Several have mentioned the smell of Hoppe's #9. How many of you older posters (as I am) remember the smell of the old, orginal Hoppe's #9? The smell has changed slightly through the years, probably due to some rediculous EPA rules that caused them to make it 'safer' to use.

I worked for a large sporting goods retailer for several years and we bought many used guns and did quite a bit of gun trading. Anyway, one day a couple in their 30's brought in some guns to sell that had belonged to an old relative. They also had a box along that had some ammo in it along with some cleaning supplies. We bought the guns. Later that night I was looking in the box of goodies and found a bottle of Hoppe's#9. I opened and WOW...the OLD stuff. I called another employee about my age over and asked him to smell the Hoppe's. He got a big grin on his face after taking a good wiff and replied, "That's the good, old stuff." The younger employees thought we were crazy until we opened a new bottle and had them compare the smell. They agreed that their was a definite difference in the smell and most preferred the smell of the 'good, old stuff'. The younger generation today will never know some of the good smells from the past.

burned nitro in a paper shotshell case
a trick or treat bag
mink being skinned
apples in my grandpas cellar
the sage sippin air of opening grouse in NE Montana
log wood crystals boiling
-40
an old musty log cabin
My sweetie's perfume
moldering leaves
smoking fish
cotton candy
life

The smell of Balkan Sobraine in the white tin, fresh and while smoked. Or even any other latakia mixture.

Farm Kitchen in the morning,Eggs,Bacon and Coffee on the Stove. Chickens,cows and horses outside,the culvert out front!

mink oil leather preservative

Definitely my dad's Sears canvas tent. We recently went camping, and my dad brought the old tent to use for storage;took me right back to the late 60's early 70's as soon as I walked in it. It was the smell that did it.

Occasionally I'll get a whiff of some women's perfume; bad memories come a calling.

The smell of burning coal, the smell of a burning gob pile (slate dump), the fall woods, and the smell of turbine engine exhaust.

Linseed oil
The smell of Def over white cotton fields

Me too.

A couple years ago I was standing about 100 feet behind and downwind of this old jet when they fired the burner.

Some of you guys know well the smell I encountered for the first time in my life. Nothing else quite like it.





As a side note, the pilot radioed back to us that he managed to make 500 mph indicated in that old Vampire.

Hey that's a Vampire !!

Woody,

You are, of course, correct. I do not know what I was thinking.

Thanks for the correction.


As to the original post. I was about five years old when my parents bought me my first pony. I can still remember the sun striking his shiny black coat on a brisk spring day. And I remember burying my nose in the hair on his shoulder and breathing in his horsey scent.

On a decent sunny day in the spring, fifty years later, I might still be caught with my nose buried into the hair on a horses shoulder. It is a clean, fresh, healthy, outdoorsy scent that no citified dude could ever learn to appreciate.

CORDITE

The smell of JP4 exhaust from a pullup dropping a double pointed napalm can x2 on a treeline 100yds in front of you during a bad time. Smells change real fast after that

Davy Brackens buck lure, I just got a whiff of something last week that must have had some vanilla in it.Took me back 35 years.

Cannibal farts are really in a category all their own.

An indelible olfactory memory � huddling over a kerosene lantern in a drafty outhouse on windy winter nights.

Pipe smoke, harvested sugar beets and baked beans remind me of grandpa's house....

A whiff of JP4 makes me strain to hear a T53 struggling...

The smell of cutting fluid in the air takes me back to when it was good to be in manufacturing.....

Diesel smoke and welding fumes bring me to the here and now....

As for paper shotshells freshly fired....I get my fix everytime I step to the trap line, I only load Federal Papers....with Green Dot.

The first bottle of "Tinks" at Tinks house when he lived in northern Virginia.

Doc

That'd be a stench that burned it's way into your memory.

The modern version is taking short breaths in the inhouse, trying not to gag on the combination of me, coupled with those god-awful electric air fresheners that spit semi-liquid ooze.

Yep, fresh paper shotgun shells..
They did have an aroma all their own.

Canvas huntin gear right out of the cellar.

a wet dog drying by the fire.

All smells I miss of autumns past.

Sorghum cooking in a vat.

Grandpa's corn mash cooking behind the barn.

Gut shot mule deer buck.

Pike Oil by J Curtis Grigg on my dad's trapping jacket. He had one pocket that was form fitted and case hardened with that stuff. It was the smell of going on the line with him.

In another pocket there were always a few roll crimped blue paper 16 ga. Peters shells.

That peculair combination of dead minnows and 2-cycle gasoline mix. When my friend's father would take us fishing it seemed like him or someone else at the small dock had always left some minnows in the bucket too long or some fish in the "live"box too long. Mix that with the smell of gas he poured in the tank on top of the old outboard and there you have it. I too can remember the smell of the first .410 paper shell I fired at a flock of starlings in a tree.

Two that stand out:

Grandma's old farmhouse - combination of sawn pine and pine needles, woodsmoke, baked chicken, mothballs, plowed earth.

Hoppe's #9

Testors enamel model paint.

Estes rocket engines.

COX engine fuel.

CIL .22 rimfire ammunition smoke.

Stag gun grease.

Cowpies.

Prairie sage.

"Smells from the past"
(Or things you liked to sniff)


Airplane Glu u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u u ... e