Grass turns to seed on the meadow below the Rio Grande Pyramid and La Ventana
In a land where winter comes and stays for what feels like forever, summer is fast as she comes and goes in a passionate whirlwind, a fury of blaze and smoke in the wind, passing over the land in a bright wash of color, like a dancing girl in fancy dress twisting and turning across the stage for just one brief song and dance, only to fade again so quickly as the lights dim again…
The meadow begins to brown as the grass throws out its seeds in a last attempt to survive, insurance that the mountain will green again next year. For now the field is a rich amber and red as the seed heads take shape and flourish. The last glorious push of life with the soft and lacy seeds of grass waving in the August storms.
Next I look, it will have changed. The intense fury of summer will fade. The lingering, leisurely, still and silent winter will return, gently unfolding her frigid arms, comforting us with the languid air of the long, cold winter.