That's is what this Vallie's floor has always looked like to me.
I've seen it from the top most ridges of the surrounding mountain's as we have dropped down in from the other side, from the back's of horse's, as we've climbed to hunt, as well as from long hikes and jeep rides to escape the cities heat and breath the cool mountain air, I've seen it coming and going, in both the light of dusk and dawn, from high and low...and I never tire of it.
I love the azure canopy, as the breezes waft gently over the lengthening crop's, inviting them to join in a festive dance of sort's. You can hear the birds chirping from nearby tree's, fences and barns as you feel the heat burning off the cool of the morning. The lowing of cattle grazing lazily in a meadow. All the while drawing in the heady sent of new mown hay.
A few things rush pel-mel into my minds eye almost every time I glimpse this cray quilt; The look of rapture that comes to Honey's face, as he is carried to another place or time, once again to be wrapped in the quilts, comforting feeling of *home*. Followed closely by the sound of rain bird's, large and small, that brought such comfort through our open window's the year's we lived on Sugar Lane. Always I seem to hear, echoing over the fields of time, the sound of my boy's voice's being carried over a little patch of quilt, sometimes singing, sometimes cursing, as they moved the heavy awkward sprinkler pipe every night and every morning through the bug infested fields. I have never gone past a *line* anywhere, without looking to see if it's straight and if it has a *geyser* spewing forth precious water until it's tended to.
I do so love the crazy quilt's of Summer...
p.s. This particular line...bows.
Smile and remember;
We're fool's whether we dance or not. so we might as well dance.