Asakiyume mita

Just imagine everything is golden-yellow. Birds everywhere are golden: yellow warblers with streaks of orange on their breasts, and goldfinches, and golden-orange orioles, and black-and-white bobolinks with golden heads. Even the red-winged blackbird, with his scarlet epaulets, has yellow gold on him: fringe for those epaulets. And all these birds are singing golden songs. The trees, meanwhile, are a hundred different hues of yellow and green, and in the tender new grass (which tastes like the scent of hay), there are dandelions, with stems a foot long and flowers the size of half-dollar coins.

Around the corner of one road,a car had pulled way up off the road and two women and a little boy were knee deep in the meadow, picking dandelions. One woman wore a loose, off-the-shoulder top; the other had purple-red hair. The boy seemed barely dandelion-height.

I was with teenybuffalo; it was about 5 pm. We smiled as we passed, and the purple-haired woman said, in an almost intoxicated voice, "You want one?" and we said sure, and Teeny put hers through the buttonholes of her vest, a boutonnière, and I stuck mine in my braid--souvenirs of the golden land.

no camera, so here is a vague sketch from memory