smoking is bad for farms

the morning was upon us.The sweet dawn that rose from the hills bringing spring into my doorstep reminded me of my youthful days back in the farm. The farm...The rooster yelling for the time for us to sip that fresh air.The horses that would run wild behind the white picketed fence.The cows that laid feeding all day before they gave us the milky seed of their ample breasts. The small innocent lambs that twirled in the backyard till we would feed them. The farm...so many good memories. Then war was upon us. It was the day that papa left to go to war. Mama would cry and smoke everyday...Then the Germans came and as Greeks consider hospitality a precious gift, mama would be courteous when they came for the daily dairies to invite them for a coffee. They would sit in the living room and then they would all smoke together. The ominous clouds of war were upon Europe but i was too busy on the disastrous clouds of smoke in the living room. Soon all the furniture would stink of cigarette. Then my lovely clothes. Then my brother started smoking as a protest, but i always thought he did it to be sweet to that German girl who moved in with her father the commanding officer of the village. Then my grandfather, who stopped smoking cause it would ruin my whole beautiful description of the farm, started to smoke again so as not to be rude in front of so many smokers. Then papa returned from the front. But all i could see was the cigarette in front of him. He was marked from the war and would sit smoking all day. Since he disliked the people who caused him to nearly lose his leg in the cold mountainous regions where they laid for months, he would always retreat to where else; my room!So after a while all the house would smell of smoke. My grandmother saw the opportunity in it and decided to plant tobacco in the field. Then my uncle returned from Cuba with his strange ideas and talked of cigarette folded in tobacco which he called Cigar. Plain, no -ette behind, probably cause of their mysteriously overgrown length. The market was open, the business was lucrative, the plantations expanded, the horses mysteriously ran off to somewhere else-and i always thought they went for a smoke-the rooster was replaced by an alarm clock playing comandante Che Guevara and earned a first place to the 25 December flight to the oven, the sheep lost their innocence and smoked weed and the cows would chew on tobacco. Everyone smoked but me! There can be only more than one reasons why i hate smoking!