Ghostly hues of whites and greys linger over the meadow which once bloomed in bold pink. How things change. Instead of neat little flowers hang fluffy fronds of seeds, wispy little wonders. The lightest breeze sets free tiny clumps at a time, sending them up into the sky; swirling and drifting in blatant disregard for gravity.
Something beautiful about the meadow in this moment.
Sophie
