Sunday, June 9, 2013

Meadow on steroids

Our greenbelt escape, the closest thing to a meadow we have on the ridge, is all of sudden just bursting with living, breathing wildness, with grasses well above eye-level – mine, not Casey’s.  

And with a looming sunset it’s obvious that the kid is ready to head home, and in a constant state of mapping with every twist of trail and every new corridor of grasping fauna.


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