Perhaps it's them lil winter elves, out for one last dance before Spring arrives good and proper, and they descend underground, into their bed of soft earth, to hibernate till the Cold Months return once more.
Or, it could be your lil chickadees running around barefoot.
The writer in me wants it to have been Winter Elves. The Bath Resident in me reckons it was a disorganised wife trying to catch the recycling lorry....
Never took any minutes as secretary to any group. Poet with writer's block. Mother of Two. Aquarius Moon. Passion for potions. Learning how to blog.I am a trained and practising aromatherapist, but do not subsitute any of my ramblings for medical advice. All content copyright of author.
3 comments:
Perhaps it's them lil winter elves, out for one last dance before Spring arrives good and proper, and they descend underground, into their bed of soft earth, to hibernate till the Cold Months return once more.
Or, it could be your lil chickadees running around barefoot.
Hmm. I know which version I prefer...
Yeah dem frost elves been dancing among the snowdrops then running along the icy tarmac home.
More fairy stories honey. More :)
The writer in me wants it to have been Winter Elves. The Bath Resident in me reckons it was a disorganised wife trying to catch the recycling lorry....
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