C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
On a humid day the silver sage has an over-whelming redolence which can make such a strong impression as to seemingly become a part of the genetic make-up of local inhabitants. In the Great Sandhills, sage grows abundantly in the draws, atop the grassy ridges and knolls, and on barren windswept hillsides, desperately trying to retain a root hold in the constantly drifting dunes. Its lingering scent imprints upon the minds and souls of the animals… human, domestic and wild. If ever fortune allows you to become captive of the silver sage, its delicious fragrance will be with you always…
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