GOLDEN HOUR HARVEST

There’s a magic the sun saves for evenings like this, where fields turn to gold and ordinary moments glow a little louder.

We wandered through the fading warmth, collecting light like memories, laughing like the day would never end.

The world softened, the sky painted us in honey and fire, and for a little while we were part of the season’s last breath, holding on to every ray as if we could store fall in our pockets

Tonight, the sun didn’t just set. It stayed to watch us shine