Smells Like Manure

fate on tree stump

Smells Like Manure.   That’s what I thought when I passed Fate who was lying under the dining room table after running around in the mud and manure soaked barnyard.

And I thought of the idea of there being more than just the four seasons.  That there are many different times of year and it’s constantly changing.  Like right now, it’s The Time of Slow Honey in our house.  The honey has congealed just enough so it’s still able to pour, but takes a long time getting from the jar to the tea.

So if we can have more than four seasons, why not have more than one name. I know lots of people have nicknames, but what about something more fluid,  names that change as we do.

Which takes me back to Smells Like Manure.  Each time I get a whiff of Fate, I can’t help thinking Smells Like Manure.   And right now,  that seems a much more accurate name for Fate,  than Fate.



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