Your sense of smell can be altered by psychological factors. I uploaded this today, and although I was fresh out of the shower, I smelled bad BO.
This was taken at the end of a long day at the farm that began with rescuing chickens from my rogue cat, Edwin. The robins ratted him out so he was found in a head-high thicket. Fowl of the farm UNITE! The pole beans had to be weeded in order to reach the pole. And Chloe and I picked wild blackberries in the woods, fields, and marsh.
When I first came to the farm a few years ago, I read the story, Blueberries for Sal, frequently to Chloe. I remembered yearning for hills with wild blueberries to feed on. I lamented the over development of my environment. Yeah, we have plenty of U-pick farms nearby to keep us stocked with fresh strawberries, blueberries, peaches and apples, but that just isn't the same. It lacks spontaneity.
This year I had the surprise of being at the farm on the weekend when the blackberries were blossoming. Aha. The wild exists. Now I knew where to find the loot. They were probably cultivated at one time, but now they grow wild in thorny, thickets among tall grasses. More went into our mouths than into the basket, so scratched and stained, we dropped our drawers for a dip in the swimming (mud) hole.
Finally, before leaving for home, we dined at an outdoor restaurant where we played volleyball, badminton and threw bean bags while waiting for our dinner to be served. We all slept well that night.