Today as we passed what happens to be my grandmother and uncle's subdivision we were bombarded by the perfume of citrus blossoms. Oh my goodness. It was heavenly. We were driving with the windows down (it was only 80 degrees outside, jealous much?) and the kids and I nearly freaked out. If you could bottle that scent and be able to avoid the tint of alcohol that most perfumes seem to possess, you'd make millions.
It reminded me a bit of my great-aunt's home in Mississippi.
(This isn't really a pic of her house, but it's a close comparison.)
She passed away in 1999. But in about 1989, we went to her house and I remember her front yard was comprised almost completely of wildflowers. She had ivy growing along trellises and up the side of her house. It was beautiful. I loved it so much that she gave me some seeds from her flowers to grow my own garden.
I also remember my great-uncle going out to his watermelon patch, taking one into the nook of his arm, thumping it, and after finding just the right one, he picked it and we immediately cut it open and ate it. There isn't anything much more refreshing than a freshly picked Mississippi watermelon. (Okay, that one's a memory of summer, but if you've never noticed, I function in chains: this made me think of this, which made me think of this.... you get the picture.)