I'd bet we got up to eighty degrees today. Frankly, I'm not ready, plus I was promised snow with my winter, and we ain't got none of that.
One thing tourists inevitably notice while traveling through the Golden Beef Triangle are the feedlots and in particular, the smell. When it's cold, the smells are reduced. However, when it warms up, it's like all those special odors are freed at once, because the intensity of the nasal assault just seems worse. So, with that, I give you a post from the past:
Ode to the Feedlots
The wintertime masks the odour of the feedlot, you think
When driving by the smell isn't so bad the stink
Isn't an overwhelming presence just a mild after taste
From all those cattle's massed body waste
The skein of ice over the lagoon surface
Hides Natures ultimate purpose
For when the cheery Springtime Sun heat
Warms the copious fetid treat
A fragrant explosion assaults the senses
When motoring by those complicit fences
The Little Tree® air freshener hides and cries
And moans and screams and finally dies
The dense, wafting wall of emanation
Surely is unequaled in all of creation
Overcome by dizziness in the cloud of effluvium
One wonders if there is a requiem
For the slaughtered nerves in one's nose
Flooded like a tincture of fire hose
The Old Timers! Look and see
It's nothing but the smell of money!
I'll agree with this only
When me and my nose are safely free!
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