A real slope at real scale packed edge to edge with wildflowers, weathered rock spires standing in the meadow standing in it at their own true size, saturated yellow and violet, the two colours interleaved head by head through the whole field so neither of them gathers into a patch of its own, deeply coloured and saturated and high-chroma, with a dry streambed running through. Everything in the frame stands at its own true size and is rendered straight — the density of the field is the subject, the individual heads legible at the lens and merging into mass toward the ridge. hard raking sun near the horizon, an empty cobalt sky, and the form's shadow stretched the full width of the frame, long shadows from the standing rock. The bloom dense to every edge, the sky and the far ridge calm. the frame empty of people. A real place on its best day, and that alone.