Lion of the Savannah

We're a way off from haying time in the Wet Mountain Valley, but the grass here is stunning. Early in the season a hay field is young and green, a short, vibrant carpet.
As the summer wears the wild iris intrude, the grasses grow leggy and liquid, a spiny thistle occasionally rears its alien head. We think of grass as being green, but this time of year, stalks keep the chlorophyll close while their tops explode into graceful crests of red, white, spring green, caramel.

When the wind blows, the grasses move like the sea, wave crashing on wave of Timothy, alfalfa and brome, amber, green and red waves of grain. They hide brilliant balls of clover, the breeze and the heat releasing their honeyed, jasmine scent.

As you can see, even with deadlines pressing, at the ranch it's hard for the wild life to stay indoors.

Comments (1) -

July 8. 2009 11:10


free as a bird ;)

belajar |

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