In the mornings, it's gone gray--skies overcast and valleys misted. We watch for this friendly orange flame waving from the oil rig. It has become a landmark on our way to school.
Our leaves are almost all on the ground now. This, the second harvest under the sycamores, still reflects an afternoon sun-- brilliantly.
These are the gold reds.
Now for green blue.
As I left school today this was
behind me, overcoming the grain elevator--a swarm of incoming cold blue swirls.