A SOFT CLOUD OF POLLEN gathers size and strength from a breath of wind skimming the flower heads on the expanse of waist-high grass. Just as quickly, the cloud disperses.
The grass will be cut, raked, and baled any day now, and the thousands of birds, rodents, rabbits, and insects residing in the meadow will have to scramble for their lives. Not all of them will make it, or find shelter in the remaining stubble.
THE NEARBY WINTER RYE tinges the landscape a soft blue, shimmering harp-like through a loose forest of pastel stalks blurring eye-height to vermilion and gold.
The rye is soon to be plowed under, having nearly completed its assigned task of protecting the field from erosion and enriching the soil to which it will be returned.
SOME PLANTS look their best in blossom, others while their foliage is young and lush, before they mature into irritating old age.
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