Fragrant Quote for August 29th, 2012-I myself By Elizabeth Paschal O'Connor

Flowering Laburnum Image Credit

We left the Leygraaffs Hotel, and walked
toward the park, passing a group of charming old houses on
our right. I stopped on the bridge long enough to photo-
graph one mentally. The house, built of white stone, was
old, with green shutters, and it stood on a sort of round
mound of velvety grass carpeted with daisies and dandelions,
and chequered by broken blossoms. It was separated from
the street by a canal and connected with it by a fine iron
bridge. In front of the house were two giant horse-chestnuts
laden with blossoms. I never saw such tall ones, and the
trunks of the trees were all covered in ivy. At the left side
of the house an avenue of trees continued, pink horse-chestnuts, amethyst lilac trees, lavender lilac trees, and white lilac interspersed with flower-laden laburnums. When the breeze softly moved them they waved like plumes, and the fragrance of that delightful mass of superb colour was almost overpowering. The door of the house stood wide open with a hospitable smile, but there was no one in sight—only an old white and orange setter lying on the step blinking one eye at us, and almost snowed over by purple and white and yellow blossoms continually drifting down on him. It made him look like a babe in the wood. All one side of the house was completely covered by an old laburnum tree with the blossoms of a luxuriance great enough to make a blazing, waving cloth of gold.