One of the best things about our weekend in Pennsylvania, near a branch of the Delaware River, was our host's lawn. Allowed to run wild, it was studded with flowers; walking meant you crushed them.
The center of the lawn area in the clearing cut from the surrounding forest was a meadow. Nothing was planted.
Veronica and dandelions
I can't imagine a better lawn.
The edges closer to the woods were mossy. Everything was really soft.
My mother would have loved it. I haven't seen this many flowers in one place since we tramped together through the Swiss Alps, long, long ago.
(With thanks to Carl Suk and Linda Waa'tap Bishop in the Plant Identification group, for help ID'ing)