LOCATION IS EVERYTHING. Sulphur cinquefoil, purple vetch, and pink clover run rampant through the wild grasses, subtle jewels in a green swell. In the rolling meadow, buttercup, fleabane, and white campion escape the wrath of domestication, ignorant of slander, their delicacy swamped but virility a virtue.
Seventh in a series. Click on image to enlarge.
0 Replies to “The Meadows, VII: Wildflowers, 6 p.m.”
wow, Russell–this one is like a Joan Mitchell!! I just want to tell you how much I am loving this series–
Thanks Geri! I appreciate it.