2011-04-07 // 19:27:13
Reindeer

In search of the Mouldiwarp. Edith Nesbit afternoons.

I like to think there was a whispering breeze, telling tales. And that something important and small was stolen by someone mischievous and small.

And that whereas there ought to have been the neighbor's usual garden on the other side of the fence, the landscape had quite dramatically shifted since you'd last had a peek over, and now there was a tunnel leading straight down into the beating heart of the earth.

And that the bravery of the scout would never be in doubt.

2011-04-07 // 04:19:54
sistermarycasey
very nice ma dear! long time no see...