Missing the Meadow

All around the hay fields are being cut and the smell of drying grass is heavenly.  The mowing and baling happen so quickly it is taking me a little while to adjust to the new landscape.

To the east of the workshop, one meadow remains, I’m not sure why it has been left to last, but until the machinery comes in we’re enjoying (Quail and me), this still-standing loveliness of billowing grass stems and golden seed heads.