It's a windy day here, and during my walk the usual twittering of birds was replaced with the groans and creaks of trees bending at its gusts. Brown, dry leaves spun making a whirring and tinkling sound. Yet, they stubbornly refused to detach from their branches.
Here and there the monotony of the colorless landscape was broken by lively splotches of green provided by pines and cedar. At the edge of Standing Boy are fan palms; they, too, never submit to the searing heat or chilling frost. All year long they bear the signs of life in their long, slender, emerald shoots. However, the one I've included appeared it was trying to break free of its roots and soar off to warmer climates.