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05 July 2013

Foxtails, Missoula, Montana

You may know this wayside grass by another name, but we’ve always called them foxtails.
(Unrelated Side Note: Grass by another name still must be mowed.)

Their silken strands were irresistibly close to hand during childhood field walks. Even now, I find their smooth texture and subtle shimmer mesmerising. Diving into this childlike wonder, I stop to admire their quiet movement in the breeze, and stoop to gently pull the glossy tails through my grasp.

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