sweet, sweet clover

I held a small yard sale yesterday because birdhouses are piling up, and while sitting in the shade on the front lawn a familiar scent awakened my memory to another time, a time when I was young, would lie down in the grass without a care in the world, watch the clouds and - sniffing the air - enjoy the smell of sweet, sweet clover.

[I have a decent crop of clover this year"]

As I enjoyed my reverie I left my chair, got down on my hands and knees with my camera, snapped a few photos, and was about to stretch out like a kid when reality hit me. I live in another time, a time when, if any of my neighbours or passersby should see me on my back and staring into the sky, they would call 911 and rush over to see if I'd had a heart attack.

After I declared an end to my sale I mowed the lawn. Goodbye sweet flowers

Later in the day, however, a wee bit of regret entered my head and inspired a plan. Next week, once the clover returns, I'm going to stretch out on the same lawn, but I'll lie upon a beach towel in my swim suit with a good book and a cardboard sign that will read: "Enjoying the smell of clover. Don't call 911."

Photos by GH 

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Please click here to see Zoom w a View: apricot blossoms