Impending Doom

All is not well in the woods of late. The cries of the buzzard are heard in the treetops. The grass is as yellow as an old moon and the taties as green as old grass. Even the moss on the roof is thin and dry, only nettles and brambles abound and flourish. The folks passing by hurry with eyes aside muttering dark tales of an unearthly beast sighted in the spinneys.

Spring to Rights

Well I can scarce bring mysell to believe on it but mebbe tis nearing winters end. Folks do certainly have been acting strange as if the breeze has got between the ears. Twas only the other morning I be standing by the gate and Mrs E do come past. Well she turns round and says 'Be that a bat a landing on your table there?' I could a fallen down with shock, she couldna even see out table across the gate. Well so I turns round and says 'What table, what bat, what can e be meaning?' Turns out she thought a bat be landing on a bit of old wood leaning up out the back. I think to mysell, its not bats landing on our table you want to be worriting yoursell about, Mrs E, it be bats in the belfry. Tis way to early for the bats to be disporting themselves in the daylight. Still the time will soon be a coming in for the Untaping of the Door and the Bearing of the Charred Log away to the summer pit. Amos has already put the fox skull on the back ledge. Soon the time will come.

Wintering with Never an End

Still winter howling and March be near dead and gone. We done burn allus wood and leaves and be grappling for the last sticks and twigs in the copses with them next door. So this is why I canna get to the writing afore as the fingers be turning as black and blue as the crows in the eaves. The woodshed still be unbuilt despite us pleas to the Lord of the Estate. Nought but a heap of bricks facing us whenever us do venture past the back door. The front door still be taped up till the warmer times arrive. Amos said it be the shed of Lilith and he who seeks to rebuild the shed of Lilith will reap his own downfall in the dust and shards. Even nature itsell be giving up the mortal coils in despair. The frogs have all departed, though that be no dire hardship, the cursed creatures they be. There be dead foxes by the road, one with a white winding sheet across its sad remains. And when I go to do the springtide clean in the outside outhouse I nearly flummoxed meself into a collapse with the screaming nadgers as there be a drownded mouse in the pan.