After the solstice a new scent rises in the summer fields, among the drying stalks of goldenrod and the folded-up buttercups. It is only discernable as summer ebbs, when everything that has been brilliantly green for months dulls to a gentler gold.
Boatyard - Unravelling
Grasses fan their leaves and a powdery aroma streams away into the sky, carrying a million memories of summers as they used to be—full of lemonade, cooled by rocky streams, sweetened with candy. During the longest days of the year, there are remnants of that history in each hot breath.
Triptych Montreal - LanitaPhoto