Once lush green stalks of tall grass glowed an angry red, as though they had been sunburned instead of merely water deprived.
I always presumed I would see plumes of yellow during the deep dog-days of summer, as the plants prepared for winter and reminded me to take hay fever medication. It was, after all, almost August. Instead the bleached tips of overgrown weeds in the expansive field waved a white flag of surrender as though mocking America the Beautiful’s sweet-smelling waving wheat. Continue reading
