Something I will absolutely not miss from here at all is the smell. I won't even attempt to describe the name sign for this town (for those who don't know: a "name sign" is how people, towns, countries, sometimes businesses, are referred to in American Sign Language and usually relate in some way to the personality or some characteristic of the person) -- but it fits. And the smell? Surrounding this small town are some cattle ranches and some Con-Agra slaughterhouses. When the wind blows in particular directions (I think up from the south, but don't quote me), the one or the other of the smells waft in. On particularly "pleasant" days, the winds will bring them both on.
I have to admit that, while I would never go out of my way to seek out the smell of cow dung, it is not as gruesome as the other one. When I was growing up, we had family who had a large cattle ranch outside of a very small town in eastern Oregon and my family went often to the state fair ... so the smell of cow dung is not foreign nor something that makes me queasy. But the slaughterhouse smell or the smell of the two combined. Gross!
I will not miss that smell.
Picture at top: Temple Brandin with cows before the slaughter