Sometimes I fret, being at the end of the road, the last house . . . there is nothing to break the wind, it tears into us fresh from the mountains like an eager over-sized puppy sprinting across the field, tongue flapping, bowling us over with its enthusiasm, licking us in the face as we lie helpless, flat on our backs.
Of course I have a choice at that very moment; I can become become irritated and struggle - to no avail - or I can laugh with delight as that cold tongue of winter slobbers all over . . . and I'm happy to report, I am learning to laugh more . . .
3 comments:
I'm pretty sure Chico wasn't admiring the scenery. More than likely, he was scouring the hillside for any sign of his fox friends.
It looks like someone came by and spread Bunny Cake Frosting all over our front yard.
That is absolutely STELLER. That HAS to go into your next calendar!
BZ
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