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Christopher W.
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Cornell & Diehl - Burley Flake #2 2oz
Time Traveler
It's quite amazing how a simple blend like this can take you back to a time we'll before your own. Imagine this, it's North Florida just south of Jacksonville. It's the middle of the summer and you find yourself in middle of a hundred acres field seemed to be cut out of the long leaf pine forests. From edge to edge the field is perfectedly dotted with Burley tobacco. Your hands are covered in tobacco sap and soil. It's midday day and you make your way to the nearest curring barn and find shade on the north end. You huddle around the others as one opens a leather bag revealing this stuff. You stuff your pipe as others attempt to roll it into freehand cigarettes. You light your pipe and push your wide brim shade hate over your eyes and puff away. Within minutes the barn is surrounded by the scent of nutty Burley. Rich in flavor and nicotine. The curls sweeping of your pipe sting your nostrils. The red Virginia serves only to play stake and chain to its strength. For a moment you could swear the pipe has made a weird servant of its self by enhancing the odurs of the barn; as salt would do to prime steak. You gulp the water from your bottle, washing away the nicotine sting that purveys the back of your throat. The heat beats off the barn warming the wood, releasing the rich aroma of pine resin that mixes with the nutty spice of the pipe. Lifting an eye open to view the day. The heat swirls the air and the haze yellows the sky. Closing your eye again, you slip on a quiet slumber
Gawith Hoggarth & Co. - Black Irish X
A curious one.
Imagine, if you will. It's a hot summer afternoon. You step off the school bus to the rich smell of summer. The Asphalt beneath fills your nose with hot pungent air. The suburban lawns and bushes give off that odd smell of vegetation and earth. Darts of sweet floral notes dance in and out as the breeze picks up the pollen from the various flowers that adorn the cookie cut houses around you. You make your way around your house to the backyard where the swirls of charcoal briquettes and carbonizing steak seasoning stings your nose. Your dad swings around and shotguns a bit of pipe smoke in your face. Welcome to black Irish x my friends.
