In 1974 Karla and I got married at Wedding Rock in Blayney Meadow. The flower girls scoured the surroundings and gathered probably a ton of wildflowers (all picked on private land, I might add). When the ceremony ended, both of us were totally swamped with the flowers, looking like a moving heap of garden waste till we shook them off. Our favorites, and the majority of the flowers, were shooting stars. Fortunately, we spend our winters on land that also produces shooting stars, and every almost-spring, they come up on the north-facing slopes for us to enjoy.
On the way to the Big City yesterday, we spotted a fresh outburst of the flowers. I jumped out of the car and grabbed a shot of some. Not the best picture I ever took, but good enough for a blog.
