Sean Winn

Technicolor lime green optimism pushing up through the stubble.

Mellow forest green later in spring. Happy, fat cows. Calves frolic like puppies in the pasture. Feeding can cease, welcome to both pocketbook and daily grind.

Wilting struggle as blades stagger forward in the Texas heat. Pray for rain. Anxiety turns forward as hay needs to be gathered for winter. Pray for no rain. Once the grass is cut, it will rot in the field if soaked. Luck is needed.

A second burst in early fall, welcome respite from the heat. Seedpods protrude, swaying above the sea below, waves seeking a beach. But waning hours of light, cooler evenings mean the end is near. Calves, too, are off to market, another generation passing through the fields, having taken sustenance from the growth.

A different palette for winter. Yellows and browns set against a dark backdrop; trees at the perimeter stark and naked in absence of leaves. Overhead, a grey wash of threatening clouds. Underfoot, the crunch of boot on withered dry stalks. Nourishment gone, the fields are only filler for the truly hungry. Mothers heavy with calf, struggle against the elements to bring forth life.

Technicolor lime green optimism pushing up through the stubble.