Gathering Moss


A miserable day, grey and smeared with rain.  Even the garden is still, the birds huddled under cover, the cats indoors asleep, not a drop of wind.  A blank day.
I myself am still full of cold.  Overflowing with it.  My head stuffed painfully full and my nose dripping with infuriating regularity.
A perfect day then to sit with a good book, a steaming pot of tea and piles of warm buttered toast.  Immersed in ideas and imaginations.  Lulled by the soft platter of rain.

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