Skittish fairies darted in and out amongst the branches. As they flew each snatched cherry petals from the glowing blossoms. As one, they rose into the sky, a twisting vortex, one hundred fae-folk reaching high where they cast pink petals to drift and settle upon the grave of the broken child.

Out at Lincoln City on a spur of the weather beach trip.

In support of: davecline.wordpress.com/2024/01/05/b...

December ruby reds are a tradition. Needed a grapefruit spoon. Carved my own with an xacto.