There’s a spot near my house where a small creek tiptoes under an old bridge which is haphazardly shuffled about by greenery and has begun coming apart over time.
I’ve been visiting it for a while now. I love to sit under the bridge and smoke with the tadpoles and crawdaddies as I read a good book. I usually pack some coffee and a blanket to keep myself warm because this time of year the ground gets cold and hard, and the water starts to freeze around the edges of the banks, but the middle still runs free.
Continue reading “Samuel Gawith Skiff Mixture (A Longform Pipe Tobacco Review For You!)”
The winter chill is radiating from the closed window as I stand in my office in my robe looking out at the blanket of satin white. I just woke up, and I’m waiting for the coffee to finish percolating as I watch the wind blow around the fine powder. I reach for my Mr. Brog #89, considering what I should smoke. I want something that will wake me up and push away these chills that are radiating to my bone. I think back to my recent experience with Tabac Manil’s Le Petit Robin and what a great experience that was. I decide to try another one of Mr. Manil’s offerings: Pure Semois La Brumeuse.
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It’s 1 p.m. on a Monday afternoon, and I find myself craving some sweets. I’m watching my weight, so a cupcake is out of the question. I reach for my Savinelli 645, considering what I should smoke. It’s cold outside, so I want something that will impart some warmth but also satisfy this sweet tooth. I decide to crack a tin of Stanwell Vanilla.
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When I was a young boy, over 30 years ago, it was common for us to spend some time in the summer and fall months camping at a mountain-base site near Mammoth Cave known as Jellystone Park. Today, many years later, I grab my pipe and sit down to go through some old pictures of my camping experiences while I smoke a bowl of Cornell & Diehl Mountain Camp.
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The autumn night wind crawls over the rolling hills of the Kentucky landscape in the background. It slips it’s sinewy, leaf-stained fingers through the crack in the window and comes to meet my hands, which are warmed by a crackling match.
My lids feel heavy, and the sulfur dissipates as the starry breeze dances around me, down to my bare ankles where it settles and nibbles at my senses.
I hold the flame to the full bowl and puff short and even for the char as my eyes drift to the full-dark sky past the pane. I move the match in small circles.
Continue reading “Esoterica’s And So To Bed (A Longform Tobacco Review For You)”