Monday, 20 February 2012

Screech Screech

My how those foxen and vixen do make such screeching and howling about out there in the dark night surrounding the humble shack,.   I hardly dare creep out to the woodpile to fetch in another twig to stoke the fire.

And I done spend weeks upon weeks cleaning up the pond making it all nice and clean and tidy.  Then them frogs come in and mess it all up again with their antics like it was never done.   The elder tree been cut down by hands unknown and the water ceased to run.

1 comment:

  1. You live down that South, don't you? Still too cold for frogs round these parts.

    Rubbish wood, elder. You don't want to go burning it.