2000, stamps, paper, gold leaf, approximately 5 feet around.  

At Ragdale Artist Colony, I would always take my walks at about 3:30 because the sun would be starting to set and the light was the best at this time.  It would make everything perfectly golden. The gold in the title refers to how we may think that something is worthless, but we are not really looking. The stamps seem like nothing and  as if they are all the same from a distance. Close up, every one is an artistic moment.  More significantly, although the prairie appeared dead in November, it was very much alive. This is why alchemy does not exist and straw is already gold. I would be magnetically drawn into the prairie every day and often meander within a certain route.  Every day there were changes on the plants from golden tones of sun to sparkling frost, from plump, to split and oozing seed, to shell, from brightest red to dried blood. This biological artistry formed an endless intricacy which was delicately woven to form a perfect prairie. Does this mean that Rumplestilskin was a figment of the fair maiden’s imagination?