LOTS 135 



Somehow they seemed so distinctly mine! And 

 when their red purple had faded to blue 

 purple and then to white, feathery seed-tops, 

 they had fulfilled their season's mission, and 

 earned repose until July should come again. Now 

 they are ruthlessly cut down. No one is the 

 better or happier and I am much the sadder. 



I may still enjoy the vacant lots by extending 

 my walks beyond the precincts of the improve- 

 ment associations, but there are no more thistle 

 fields! 



The tall, rank, green- white sweet clover is 

 another of my joys, and it still holds its own. It 

 is so free and fresh and breezy. If you pick the 

 blossoms and dry them, they make the most 

 delightful sachets for your linen chest, sweeter 

 even than lavender. For fifteen years I have 

 known this as I walked among the clover, and for 

 fifteen years I have not made sachets. But this 

 summer I am again resolved to do it ! 



Down near the lake the open lots are tangles 

 of sweet clover leaning far over the unused 

 walks, brushing you saucily as you pass along 

 completely hidden by its tall tops; and under the 

 native oaks that still remain here and there, the 

 dear old bouncing-Betty has run loose and wild 

 and sticks out at you temptingly through the wire 



