Dew hangs on the grass like a thousand tiny mirrors, catching the last light before dusk and throwing it back at the sky. The land stretches flat and wide, dotted with young trees planted in a grid — the slow work of reforestation or renewal breaking up what used to be pure field. The sun hangs fat and low, clouds stacked behind it, and there’s still light left in the world. Nothing urgent. Just the turning of the day in a place where you can see it happen.
Shot in the Traverse City area, Michigan.
