Sunday, 31 March 2013
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.