This season is nothing, if not one of change.
Water levels in the pools quickly rise with each approaching shower, and shrink back as the fresh water finds its way to the thirsty corners of the field.
A freezing night is blown in, on the heels of a balmy afternoon.
And the sheer layer of ice left spanning these hollow pockets, records it all, like a line of ink scribbled on paper.
(all photos enlarge with click)
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