Yes, Ghoti ~ Our chicken coop was in the back yard, too. A really nice one, in fact, that my Dad built. It had a regular height-and-width, thick door, and was well-insulated, with a couple windows. I remember going in there for eggs, and just to hang out with the chickens.
Then, another memory is from when I was about 12. We drove up into the mountains from out of Gallup, New Mexico, winding up hairpin curves far up to where Johnny, a distant cousin of my mother lived. Johnny and Annie had no electric, and drank from a well. They had a variety of farm animals, including of course, our star, the chicken

. Many of them. I loved gathering eggs, and it would always take awhile to do it just because there
were so many. I loved the smell of being out in the barnyard.
This evokes another poetic-smell memory. Green, Palmolive soap. I took a bath by candlelight and that was the kind of soap they had. To this day, whenever I smell that kind of soap, I'm still lying in that tub, looking up at the candle, thinking what a wonderful life they have [had] up there. But, then, what does a 12-year-old know

? They seemed to like it, though

.