The ornamental grass outside my front door underwent a color job at the hands of Jack Frost at some point in the past few weeks, and now it’s flaunting blonde tresses.
Here’s how the clump of grass looked a summer ago:
I considered taking a picture of it this past weekend, but the drab and rainy put a sorry cast on everything. The sun made a flighty appearance this morning, so I snapped this shot:
It’s the color of straw, only silkier. I wish I could get away with visiting my colorist only once a year.
“Blondes are like white mice, you only find them in cages. They wouldn’t last long in nature. They’re too conspicuous.”
~ Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin