The wheat, oats and rye that Buck and Harold planted have turned the freshly disked ground green with tender shoots. A regular crew of fawns, yearlings and their mamas graze it several times each day.
I took this picture through a glass door this morning. No matter how often I get to see a scene like this, it rocks me back on my heels every single time. When I close my eyes for the night shortly, this is the image I will contemplate.