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| Not Southerwood, but sweet-smelling native plants in Santa Fe |
There's a sweeter air outside-- how spicy, even on a still
day, after the house-- and bushes of verbena and southernwood yield a leaf as
one passes to be crushed and smelt. If we could see also what we can smell-- if,
at this moment crushing the southernwood, I could go back through the long
corridor of sunny mornings, boring my way through hundreds of Augusts, I should
come in the end, passing a host of less-important figures, to no less a person
than Queen Elizabeth herself. Whether some tinted waxwork is the foundation of
my view, I do not know; but she always appears very distinctly in the same
guise. She flaunts across the terrace superbly and a little stiffly like the
peacock spreading its tail.
"Reading"
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