An entire contrast to the large and showy Hungarian clover is the modest, low-growing, dainty, white clover, its fragrance equally delicious, but more subtle and delicate. The white clover has a short, simple stem, its leaves are much smaller than those of the red clover, and the plant hugs the ground, having a running habit. It is such a close grower that where it once possesses the soil it is capable of crowding out the most noxious weeds, even the much-detested plantain. Among these white clover will be found heads of a larger growth, more rounded and of a pure flesh tint. The head of white clover is somewhat flattened, is loose, and has a greenish tint under its whiteness, because the little green calyx of each tube is seen.
Leaving the meadows and the clover bloom and entering some long undisturbed wood lot, or passing near the thick undergrowth beside some little brook, a rich, special fragrance greets us, more delicious than any spicy waft from Araby the blest. It is lavishly poured upon the air by the inconspicuous green blossoms of the wild grape; once we meet a breeze heavily laden with this exquisite odor it is never forgotten, and the sensitive nostril is likely to try all other perfumes by that one unattainable standard.
The month of June marshals in the choicest of the fragrant bands--the rose. The lilies also are June flowers; the golden lily, the stately white lily, each one pouring from its chalice a wealth of sweetness, each one fair enough to be the long-sought Holy Grail. These, together with the honeysuckle tribe, well substantiate the claim of June as the especial month of fragrance.
One of the best tendencies of the summer is to bring us into closer touch with nature. When the lawns and fields are grass-covered and the trees green overhead, we are drawn from our artificial winter life to earth and nature. We have been associated with the earth through too many centuries to deny its hold upon us now. This indoor life is a comparatively recent fad. As yet we have not forgotten that we are creatures of the dust.
In the old Greek mythology there was a character, Antæus by name, of whom it was said that his strength increased tenfold every time he touched the soil. To be conquered he must be lifted from the earth.