A stack of criss-cross bones …
… goes walking in the weeds, trot, trip, trit, trop.
Et voilà! A trail in the shape of their bones.
Not just that, but bunchgrass perfectly spaced to fit both its root needs, those footsteps, disturbed soil for seed, pooling water, and snow. Not footsteps at a run, just fawn-following-doe-following-doe-following-doe-following-doe footsteps (and sometimes a buck.)
We could plant this way.
Beautifully done, dears.