With a last name like Sniffin, it was probably inevitable that someday I would write a column about smells. Well, folks, today is that day.
Let’s start with my favorite Wyoming odor — the scent of wet sagebrush. Some folks don’t like it, but to me it represents our great state perfectly. After a fresh rain, that earthy, musky fragrance drifting across the open air is almost intoxicating. Wyoming may not have an official state smell, but if it did, it should be fresh sage.
Baby Smells
As the second oldest of 11 children, some of my earliest memories are tied to the good — and not-so-good — smells of babies.
Does anything smell better than a freshly bathed baby, all dressed up for company? Back then we used Baby Magic, and it made those little ones smell wonderful.
On the other hand, there were the diaper pails — endless and unforgettable. How could something so sweet create such awful odors? One of life’s great mysteries.
My mom was a magician at keeping a big family fed. Her secret weapon was baking bread every Saturday, lots and lots of bread. We ate it fresh, sometimes without butter or honey. It was that good. To this day, I probably eat too much bread, and I blame those Saturdays in Mom’s kitchen.
I also remember the smells of roast beef, fried chicken, and her delicious salmon patties drifting through the house.
The Gas Station
My dad owned gas stations and ran a bulk fuel plant, delivering petroleum products to customers. Naturally, everything about him smelled like gasoline and oil.
Later, when I worked at the station, I came home smelling the same: fuel, grease, and my specialty: rubber tires. I changed plenty of them using prehistoric tools, usually drenched in sweat.
Back then, we all tinkered with our cars. They needed constant adjusting, but at least they were simpler than today’s machines. Many had leaky exhaust systems, so it wasn’t unusual to show up at a date’s house smelling like fumes. Oh well.
We lived in farm country, and manure smells were everywhere — especially around the pig pens. Cow manure was tolerable, but pigs? That was something else.
They say you can hear the corn grow in Iowa in August. You can definitely smell it, too — a sharp, pungent scent.
That First Airplane
I spent 30 years of my adult life as a private pilot and loved nearly every minute of it — smells included.
Oddly, the scent I remember most is from my very first flight at age eight. I was squeezed between my dad and my Uncle Dick Johnson in a tiny Piper Cub. Burning oil from the engine nearly gassed us, but I loved every second.
Right then, I promised myself I would become a pilot someday. And to this day, that smell remains as vivid as the thrill of flying and the view from above.
Wyoming Smells
Another distinct Wyoming smell came from my first snowmobile rides more than 50 years ago. Those old two-cycle machines belched thick, smoky exhaust — pretty rank stuff. But when a smell comes with fun and adventure, you learn to appreciate it anyway.
Long-time Wyoming tourism legend Gene Bryan, formerly of Cheyenne and Cody, reminds me that his favorite Cowboy State odor was the smell of camp coffee over a campfire. Yes, he is so right on that!
Retired fire fighter Karl Brauneis of Lander loved the smell of horses as he spent lots of time in the back country. He said the old ranger stations in the back country reeked of wonderful horse odors.
My fellow Cowboy State Daily Columnist Dave Simpson of Cheyenne has spent the last two years building a mountain cabin. Naturally, his favorite odors are fresh-cut lumber and fresh joint compound on a newly-taped drywall. He also recalls “my first girlfriends perfume.”
As a lifelong Catholic, I also cherish the smell of incense in church. I served as an altar boy for 10 years, and that fragrance still brings back peaceful memories.
Wyoming doesn’t get as many lightning storms as my native Iowa, but when we do, they can be fierce. I love that sharp ozone smell after a close lightning strike.
I should close with the wonderful aromas from my wife Nancy’s kitchen and my backyard grill. Her Christmas chili is legendary, and the holiday prime rib and turkey were always unforgettable.
These days, my grandsons love the steaks I cook on the grill. It took some effort, but I’ve finally educated them to appreciate a proper medium-rare steak.
So, these are some of my favorite smells. What are yours?
Bill Sniffin can be reached at bill@cowboystatedaily.com
