Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • These are my colors. From 1978-82 when I was in high school, I made many of my own clothes, and these were the colors I gravitated to. They were called “earth tones.” My mother called them “brown and beige.” Looking at the prairie these days reminds me of the one and only “suit” I ever made, a lined jacket, pants, and a corduroy vest that had all these colors in it. I loved that vest.
  • The mature prairie behind the house continues to look different than it has other years. The individual plants stand out, although I couldn’t tell you without their bright flowering heads what they are. Well, these are the seeds of grey headed coneflowers. It’s seed harvest time. This time of year they flake right off their stalks and release a great, citrus-y scent that stays in the skin.
  • And this fluffy one was the last to bloom, goldenrod.
  • As for these with the sherbet-red stalks, or the grasses, I don’t really know.
  • Except that this is our wave of blue stem…
  • The colors of the ground are in harmony with the colors of the trees, and the light of the low sun is just burnishing everything. It’s precious metal time. Jewels of the earth time. A final shout before everything is blanketed in snow.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.