I call it My Meadow, but it isn’t mine. It belongs to itself. Nature belongs to itself.
Prairie meadow. Behind the trees are homes. Behind me is the road. Over in the right corner is a platform. I don’t know why it’s there. I climbed it once. Only once. I didn’t like being up there looking out over the meadow. I preferred to be among the grasses and wildflowers.
These seeds from the mother plant wafted all through the meadow. These cling tenaciously to a vine, not wanting to let go but knowing they have to in order to fulfill their purpose.
I’m not patient when it comes to photographing flitting and flying insects, but this bee must have found a saturated wildflower because he stayed still enough for me to get quite a few photos.
I am so used to getting my fruits from a grocery that I don’t know what I could eat in the wilds. It’s a shame that I am so removed from the natural world. I will leave these for the meadow creatures, though.
Black-eyed Susans. So abundant. Some people are tired of seeing them and snub them for their gardens. I can’t help but love them. They are both sun and earth, light and dark, beauty in contrasts.
When the sun hits just right, it skims the tips of these feathered tassels and makes them shimmer.