Daily Field
Ink caps by the woodpile
Most of the tansy along the ditch has gone brown, but a few flower heads are still stubbornly yellow.
A cluster of shaggy ink caps has come up beside the old woodpile — eleven of them, the tallest about the length of my hand. Two had already started to dissolve at the rim into black drips. By Friday they will be gone.
A buzzard circled twice over the far hedge, mewing, and drifted off toward the river.