I seem to be on a trend lately of borrowing titles others have crafted, whether aware of it or not. As a child we had an entire wall of the house lined with books and one I attempted to read many times, and failed, was called The Scent of New Mown Hay.
The weather has been seemingly so atypical in regards to regular water fall that I again needed to mow my lawn this morning. Recovering from the Spring Fire means many species are taking advantage, notably those present before the disaster with great root systems underground. Sage is retaking hold here, amidst all fields I wander with the dog, about the roadsides, grabbing any bit of sun they can muster, and notably, throughout my lawn.
It is true, the scent of new mown hay is lovely, but with a bit of morning moisture when your lawn is half grass and half sage? A smell to behold, embrace, inhale mightily, and for this man, to smile deeply. It is a smell that pleases me, touches me, tickles my senses and reminds me of an image map I created in the late nineties, so the scent of new mown sage fulfills me at a fundamental level.