Carrots. Original public domain image from Wikimedia Commons
American tourists with roots in rolling mountains and cows mooing in Norwegian dialects, they assumed it was fine: drive up to the rural farm, request a tour.
They spoke the Norse of their forefathers. Surely they’d be welcome!
Wide-eyed Alice stared. A goat stood, nibbling on the house’s grassy roof. Alice wrinkled her nose: the funky scent of barnyard, cheese, cow shit.
Side-eye notwithstanding, the farmwife welcomed them, in kerchief, heavy work boots, and cautious smile. She’d sat them at her kitchen with a glass of milk, fresh from her cow.
That scent and smile warms Alice, decades later.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2023)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (11/28/2023): In 99 words (no more, no less), write the smell of other people’s houses. You could compare your childhood home to friends’ homes; houses in different regions; houses on the same street; dorm rooms or public housing. Go where the prompt leads!
Valley of the Trolls 
(Liz, Did you try and follow my site the other day…it didn’t take or did it? I didn’t see you on my follow list in my dashboard…could be WP issues…)
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Hospitality comes in many forms.
Lovely memory.
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Memories can sustain us for years…..
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Lovely story. You’ve set the scene so well Liz.
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Thank you, Sadje!
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Most welcome. 🥰
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It’s better than the new school mega dairy I can smell right now.
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Bwahahhahahaha! >>wink!<<
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I inhaled deeply for this one. Lovely.
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Nothing like the scent of an old school, tiny dairy farm!
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