The camas fields have already dried, but the tops are still visible, and each is filled with little black seeds. When the wind blows, the seeds rattle inside the brittle pods. As I dug the camas bulbs, I scattered most of the seeds on the ground in hopes of renewing the next generation of plants, but I collected a few to see if they would grow at home.
Of course, I had to do my classic pose at least once.
A barbed wire fence separates the camas from a farmer's field.
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