Paganism, Permaculture & Poultrykeeping on a Welsh Hillside
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
Drip, Drip, Drip...
The sound of dripping trees, birdsong and running water.
Fog hangs in the air like a pall of gunsmoke. The crushed grass bears testament to the great battle that occurred overnight.
The Snow Queen's mantle lies in tatters as she retreats - for now.
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