Wednesday 12 December 2012

Down the road, early evening.

My fifty-first year to heaven.  We crunch the cold hard-frosted leaves and mud-iced ruts; my right thumb hurts its winter hurt.  A solitary grey heron beats over the further field.

1 comment:

Rouchswalwe said...

Sweet Lucy! I wish I could have served you a portion of the braised Sauerkraut I whipped up. But I am certain that Tom and Molly feted you with aplomb. Happy Happy Birthday to you! And here's to many many springs ahead for us all!!