Not Van Gogh
Not ninety-nine, not one-o-one, but a hundred degrees even--and absolutely comfortable--enjoyable actually.
Ten percent humidity and a stiff breeze. Not a trace of any lingering perspiration. Not a drop of sweat that didn't instantly evaporate.
The total silence that only comes from being in a place like this.
This is not the only field of them. They're all along the back highways up here in the Vaca Valley into Yolo.
My one regret? Not being able to capture the depth--the field extends far deeper into the horizon than the photo portrays.