This is an I-Heart podcast.

And we continue with our American stories.

And up next we have a listener's story from Katrina Hein.

Katrina has contributed to our show in many ways, but this story is a personal story from one of

Katrina's early jobs out of high school entitled Cow Patty. Here she is with a story.

As a child, I had the good fortune to have grandparents that lived on a farm in southeast Kansas

near a little spot in the road called Bartlett.

The highlight of my summer and the best memories I ever had growing up were on that farm.

In fact, some of my earliest memories were of the old dairy barn behind the house

that was surrounded by colorful hollyhocks and wild roses.

No one can explain it to you, but for those of us who are familiar with dairy barns,

know that one of the best smells on a farm is in that

dairy barn besides the recycled grass of course I remember walking into the dairy barn on

chilly mornings and being met by the whirring of the milking machine the warmth of a pot-bellied

wood stove and the mixed scent of sweet feed, milk, and bleach.

The rhythm of the milkers and the radio playing Hank Williams in the background could almost

rock you to sleep. My uncle Vernon, an old bachelor, moved back to the farm when I was a teenager

to run the dairy, and he named all the cows beautiful Hollywood sounding names like Betty and Esther,

Dolly, and Clara.

We never were quite sure about Uncle Vernon.

Each morning I was met with the sound of a farm report from the local KGGF radio station, the smell of biscuits

baking and bacon popping in the hiss of the old coffee pot.

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