So… I am out in the garden, watering the tobacco as I hear my wife drive up. I reach into my pocket and pull out my straight bulldog, drop the hose, and walk towards the picnic table that has my jar on it. The car door… I hear my wife calling my name. I wave, and everything looks fine. But, I can feel that certain… je ne sais quoi… a vibe in the air. So, I pack my pipe.
“You would not believe the lady at the store. She follows me around for an hour asking me…”
Holding my celtic Zippo about half an inch above the pipe, I gently coax my pipe to a slow smolder, with the flames jumping up out of the pipe to meet the lighter’s flame, the tobacco expanding up to the top of the rim of my pipe. A couple of gentle puffs…
“Then the vet called and they still had a balance of $198, where they didn’t batch the day I paid them with my debit card, and I didn’t balance…”
Gently tamping down the rising tobacco and coaxing the pipe back to a red ember glow, I start to pull a sweetness from the tobacco.
“…and Jack hasn’t called in three weeks, and he has a new girlfriend that I haven’t met yet. It’s just three more weeks till his graduation and I have no idea what the plans are…”
Deep but gently slow pulls on the pipe.
“…and if your daughter is late one more time to work, she could lose her job, and we just can’t afford to take over her car payments for her. I just can’t…”
Sipping gently, allowing a little ambient air in around the button to keep the smoke cool. Cherry sweet red Virginia… with a touch of perique, just an angel’s breath to give it a fruitiness.
Tears start to stream down her face, slow tears as she says, “It’s just so much. I’m not sure what to do…”
The pipe stays in my clench, and I can take gentle sips, rolling the smoke around my tongue, frolicking in the natural tobacco sweetness, citrus, maybe plum, no real pepperiness, just maybe a hint of spice, without a hint of harshness. Letting just enough smoke to escape my mouth, to keep letting in another gentle pull of fresh smoke, to fully absorb the flavors and the gentle relaxation of nicotine.
I pull her close, taking her into my arms as I continue to absorb more goodness of the pipe. Another gentle pull of the pipe, and more deeply absorbed VaPers.
“What is that flavor smoke? Is that cherry?” Still holding her in my arms.
I pull the pipe for the first time from my mouth, “It’s not a flavored blend; it’s H&H’s Louisiana Red, jarred in 2013. Just tobacco.”
She leans into my smoke, hazing gently from my face, not blowing, just sort of exuding the smoke. She takes it in and seems to breath out all of her frustration.
“Oh baby, I love you so much. You always know exactly how to deal with me.”
“I love you too,..” I seem to say to my pipe.
She gives me another deep hug and put her head on my shoulder. I return my pipe to my clench and start to frolic in the light tobacco-y goodness again.
“I like that tobacco,” and she gives me one last hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I’ll go start dinner.”
I like it too, and I start to coil the hose up to get it out of the yard, taking in the last of the smoke, drifting off of the bottom of the pipe, with the obligatory hint of ash from the very last of the embers. I knock the pipe out into my palm, and brush my hand off on my jeans, returning my pipe to my pocket.
The tobacco plants are about three inches across. I need to get pictures of them soon. And, I think I smell chicken cooking in the kitchen. Life is good. :
:
“You would not believe the lady at the store. She follows me around for an hour asking me…”
Holding my celtic Zippo about half an inch above the pipe, I gently coax my pipe to a slow smolder, with the flames jumping up out of the pipe to meet the lighter’s flame, the tobacco expanding up to the top of the rim of my pipe. A couple of gentle puffs…
“Then the vet called and they still had a balance of $198, where they didn’t batch the day I paid them with my debit card, and I didn’t balance…”
Gently tamping down the rising tobacco and coaxing the pipe back to a red ember glow, I start to pull a sweetness from the tobacco.
“…and Jack hasn’t called in three weeks, and he has a new girlfriend that I haven’t met yet. It’s just three more weeks till his graduation and I have no idea what the plans are…”
Deep but gently slow pulls on the pipe.
“…and if your daughter is late one more time to work, she could lose her job, and we just can’t afford to take over her car payments for her. I just can’t…”
Sipping gently, allowing a little ambient air in around the button to keep the smoke cool. Cherry sweet red Virginia… with a touch of perique, just an angel’s breath to give it a fruitiness.
Tears start to stream down her face, slow tears as she says, “It’s just so much. I’m not sure what to do…”
The pipe stays in my clench, and I can take gentle sips, rolling the smoke around my tongue, frolicking in the natural tobacco sweetness, citrus, maybe plum, no real pepperiness, just maybe a hint of spice, without a hint of harshness. Letting just enough smoke to escape my mouth, to keep letting in another gentle pull of fresh smoke, to fully absorb the flavors and the gentle relaxation of nicotine.
I pull her close, taking her into my arms as I continue to absorb more goodness of the pipe. Another gentle pull of the pipe, and more deeply absorbed VaPers.
“What is that flavor smoke? Is that cherry?” Still holding her in my arms.
I pull the pipe for the first time from my mouth, “It’s not a flavored blend; it’s H&H’s Louisiana Red, jarred in 2013. Just tobacco.”
She leans into my smoke, hazing gently from my face, not blowing, just sort of exuding the smoke. She takes it in and seems to breath out all of her frustration.
“Oh baby, I love you so much. You always know exactly how to deal with me.”
“I love you too,..” I seem to say to my pipe.
She gives me another deep hug and put her head on my shoulder. I return my pipe to my clench and start to frolic in the light tobacco-y goodness again.
“I like that tobacco,” and she gives me one last hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I’ll go start dinner.”
I like it too, and I start to coil the hose up to get it out of the yard, taking in the last of the smoke, drifting off of the bottom of the pipe, with the obligatory hint of ash from the very last of the embers. I knock the pipe out into my palm, and brush my hand off on my jeans, returning my pipe to my pocket.
The tobacco plants are about three inches across. I need to get pictures of them soon. And, I think I smell chicken cooking in the kitchen. Life is good. :
:
