This should be the title of a poem. It's not, it's the title of a paper in one of the 19th century journals I'm perusing these days.
Just the title transported me to the time when the 18th century garden that I walk through at lunch to go to Mass was first planted, to some July afternoon -- or to last summer on retreat, when I got caught out a mile from the house in a rainstorm.
I am glad that at least one scientist was curious enough to study this ;')
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