The children ran past the front of the tractor shed, laughing loudly in the open air.

The sun started to set over the red barn.

Long shadows stretched across the gravel driveway.

I walked to the side yard, where the lilac bushes grew near the southern property line.

The bushes were in full bloom.

The pale purple flowers smelled like fresh rain and rich dirt.

The Denver owner hadn’t watered them once in four years.

He only came out for pheasant season in November.