It's holy week and what could be holier than taking a walk out in the country. Once again, I headed off on the path to Vilabertran so see if I could find evidence of spring. But before even leaving the city I came upon a small patch of freshly mown lawn and that took me not out into the country, but far back in time.... to Los Angeles in the 50s. To this day, the aroma of cut grass reminds me of my father. He was a gardener and when I was little I sometimes went with him to his jobs. Mowing lawn was almost always part of his day's work and more than 50 years later, I still associate that smell with those LA lawns and my dad.