from the window. A May Sky.

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie;
the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the blue sky was visible,
it wore a hazy and languid aspect.

Francis Parkman
. . .

It is just another one of those stories that unfolds on our farm. We love getting to discover each of these along the way. And so thankful that we have remembered to look out and look up.

(Enjoy your weekend.)