Sun and shadows striped the ground; the trees leaned and whispered in the cool, crisp wind, which brought with it the sounds of rain, birdsong, and the baying of far-off cattle. The clouds formed and rolled like great mountains, lacking density across the pale bluebell sky. Across the field sun shone, contrasting with the shades thrown by the pines, so it looked like a tiger's or a zebra's pelt. Off in the distance, a gray sheet hung to the earth from a black cloud: a spring rain-shower, that filled the ponds and made the grass slick.
Knots of green weeds and small brush dotted the pasture, though the hay that covered most of the ground was still yellowed from winter. A small flock of blackbirds flew over the tall, swaying pine trees, and the air smelt of warm water and budding flowers.
~
