"...weeds, weeds, how I love you!"

There's some Roethke I thought of over the weekend (I'll try to remember the book tomorrow so I can give some context). Sunday was the first really warm day, and I smelled weeds everywhere--the little, purple-flowered, sharp-smelling (stinky, according to my brother) weeds that grow in sidewalk corners and parking lots. (Does anyone know what they're called, by the way? I can't find a picture because I don't know the name.) It was a good spring smell.