Rippling gusts played with the newly forming leaves in the trees. The moving air went across the short strands of wheat in the nearby fields, like waves over a tossed pond surface.
Checking the local weather, even with gusts to 26mph, I had to do it.
|Dusk approaches, takeoff, strut view.|
Everywhere I look, I see the sea of wheat. I see the wind rippling through it. I see the shadows. I see the green.
|Sea Of Wheat|