An old sinking into the earth stone wall elevates a landscape into a fine work of art. This morning the sun never shone in a silver sky and it was damp and my feet iced but the dead straw softened, the meadow is a cushion, so I bounced along, a happy dog in the dreamy landscape of being alone in a museum with no security cameras policing. Then I poked my fingers into all the empty nests in the naked bushes and sang about garish displays of GOLDen luxury beaming from once hidden places. 

All photos and text copyright Kelly DuMar 2016