Twas in the merry month of May

To clarify, this the merry month of May was in the southern hemisphere and not north of the equator where, according to Joan Baez “the green buds all were swelling”.

In our part of the world May brings with it the first whisper of a cold breath, the grasslands become a golden carpet and the sky fades (just a little) to a pale blue.
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Some of the trees lose their swagger, fire is a great leveller, but retain a mysterious air with a life time of stories to tell.

“Autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees.” Faith Baldwin, American Family

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