Scorched but resolute after a prescribed burn, broadleaf cattails (Typha latifolia) stand tall in a Brazoria Wildlife Refuge slough, their fluff a token of the regeneration and new life to come.
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There’s nothing particularly charming about flood waters. Muddy, debris-filled and insistent, they rage indiscriminately, sparing nothing in their path.
Nonetheless, once waters recede, tokens of their presence can be surprisingly delicate. Unbroken grasses bend beneath invisible flows; trees wear faint watermarks with pride.
Among the jumbled plants, a few leaves dangle. Their thin, crisp coating of sand has begun flaking away; their striated surface recalls a season of growth.
Given over to death, they echo life: stirring before the wind, they murmur and sigh, casting off remnants of a strange and fearsome time.
Although I often post images of the flowers. birds, and insects populating the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge, it recently occurred to me that I’ve never shown wider views of the Refuge itself.
Its 44,414 acres of prairies, ponds, marshes, and sloughs provide ever-changing delights. When summer heat and humidity bring their own sort of change to the sky, the delights only multiply.