Bluebells in the Mist: Fantasy

[penthius]

The bluebells hadn't been there yesterday, she knew that. Yesterday, the long expanse of green had been a golf course, carefully manicured and groomed. The grass that grew on it was barely recognizable as grass, and certainly nothing as untameable as bluebells had been there. But his morning, with the mist hanging over the green, a wide path of bluebells curved over the hills, leading into the mist. She took a hesitant step forward. Part of her, however silly, was thinking, "But this can't be magic, because I'm wearing a polo shirt and khakis."


Inspiration: http://www.flickr.com/photos/martinpearce1/7320955842/
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Eh.