CentreSquawker

City folk crow about the farm smells at the Grange Fair.

Big deal. What's not to like?

Granted, I've always been a smell person. When I was wee, my aunts thought I was crazy because I'd smell magazines, books, newspapers -- anything that piqued my odor interests.

Little has changed. Much of my fairtime joy stems from my nostrils.

There are the diesel fumes at the tractor pull, the gently musty smell that wafts down the rows of Tent City, the sweet smells in the exhibit areas.

There are smells from barbeque, smells of monkey bread and funnel cakes, hot dogs and sausages.

Exhaust spills from the amusement rides, the dust smells roll upward from the paths and roads, and the barnyard smells cover a corner of the fairgrounds.

Then again, maybe the whole smell obsession is just me.