The old man pondered

 and the old man would ponder the boyhood days in Kentucky, before the depression years sent the families scattering, how the land willingly gave forth in her abundance, and the tobacco would slowly cure, as the old men upon the porches would inhale that sweet aroma of the bumper crop, season after season, and the boy would long for the sweet leafy smell, of the stories the old men would tell, and groaned again, wishing he was again among the men in those blue grass hills.