The Fresh Smell of Grass Digested

I was paging through some of Shakespeare's sonnets last night, when I came across this passage I hadn't read since college:

That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold--
Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang.

This weekend, I took Morgan to the Sunol Regional Wilderness:



And right near the top of the highest hill, she rolled around in what must have been a gigantic cow patty. She came running down the hill covered in dung from head to tail. I tried dunking her in a stream and in a pond, but she still needed to have a bath when we got home. Which reminds me of some lines of Herrick's:

The age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.