I love that smell. Bespeaks autumn sunlight crackling through the colored leaves. Bespeaks a fireplace while you clean the goose gun, with smelly doggy-steam rising off the stil-damp dog lolling by that fireplace. Bespeaks a cool evening after a hot day squirrel hunting. Before the leaf-burning ban, it mingled enticingly with the smoke of burning leaves from somewhere, reminding you of so many past days spent afield.
Truly, the Lord does not subtract those hours spent with Hoppe's heady aroma from your allotted three score and ten years.
Truly.