– – It’s dark. A few minutes after midnight. An almost full moon shines down upon a hollow patch of clouds, turning them silver, and leaving only a little light left to illuminate the hallowed ground below. A gentle wind rises and rushes through the bony remains of harvest, causing the canes to rattle and shake, and disturb the peaceful silence. Shadows … Continue reading ‘Fortunate Futures’ – Ata Rangi Martinborough N.Z.