Surrounded by bare branches so still I could believe they are doodles on a pencil-smudged-gray sky, I stand in a sea of grass that bows down, unmoving, waiting.
The earth holds its breath.
Fence posts lean like old men, weathered gray and full of stories.
I'm still collecting small stones like the ones above, although I haven't had much time on the computer to share them.
We've had a lot of gray days, can you tell?
To warm you up, here's a photo of Belle. She is pure sunshine-joy!
It is impossible for gray skies to seep too deep inside with that wiggly, grinning, leaping puppy around!
Linking up with Lissa's...