My first coffee memory is of my Great Uncle Kermit. After fighting in WW2 – artillery (Paton’s Third Army,) he came back and lived his life quietly in the mountains of Utah as a sheep herder. Every spring, we’d drive down to the ranch in Salina and chase the newborn lambs. Later, in the summer we’d visit Uncle Kermit up in the high mountain meadows where the sheep were grazing. We’d fish, hike, camp, play, hunt, ride horses and cook over a campfire.
And Uncle Kermit drank coffee – good, honest, woody, smoke & ash infused camp-fire coffee. He always paid his tithing too.
Photo by Clem Onojeghuo from Pexels (Thanks Clem for the picture. It sparked many happy memories today.)