Monday, April 30

fog on the stubble

We recently made our annual pilgrimage north to visit our farming mates in Three Springs.  The days were hot and the autumn rains yet to break, but one morning we awoke to a thick doona of fog and   moisture dripping from every surface.  The limited visibility brought a presence and stillness to our walk, our focus condensed and the shapes of farm life flattened in the supersaturated atmosphere, until the sun broke apart the dense cloud and left us again with a big mid-west blue sky.

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