Looking through my grandfather’s albums you can almost smell the oiled wood, the wet dogs and spent black powder.
“The subtle scratch of wool, the tickle of a pheasant feather in a coat pocket, the softness of an English Pointer’s ear as it nuzzles in for a pat.
“These are the smells and memories of my Poppa,” bushman Hamiora Gibson aka Sam the Trap Man writes in a social media post.
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