The golden horn gleams in the sunlight; this year’s cornucopia seems to be nearly thirty feet tall. Golden grasses swish in the soft breeze, and as you gaze off into the distance—you can see the grasses brown and wither into a pale green. The grass is short around the golden horn, seemingly flattened down, but in some parts of the distant arena you can see the grasses can get as high as yourself. You can spot a lake in the distance—but it’s small from this distance and you can see it in the glaring sunlight.
