Autumn, 2010 ~.
It wasn’t rain, really, but something between a very heavy fog and a very soft drizzle. The moisture was landing with such subtlety that it did not disturb even the fragile blades of grass it fell upon.
Within weeks, the precipitation will almost certainly be less kind.
Snow will beat the meadow into submission, driven by harsh winds and arriving in quantities that will simply overwhelm the tall grass and field brush… forcing it to lie down and sleep for winter’s duration.
But for now, this moisture is the meadow’s refreshment; like the drink of water one might sip before going to bed.
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© 2010 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.
