GOLDEN FIELDS

After our recent rains, in the area to our east that my poetic wife refers to as "The Savannah", the growth had turned a dark Irish green.

In more recent days, the color had changed to this rich golden hue.

It reminded us both of the day in 1985 when we took the TGV high speed train from Nice to Paris and went through the wild mustard fields around Dijon.

These golden fields, I fear, are just weeds.