Stories Told in Spring
Just above his hole, Spring was in the air, and penetrating the earth below, especially in the home of Mr. Mole.
The sweetest songbirds he ever heard, and colors never dreamed before,
as he made his way into a whole new world
of many worlds...
When Mr. Mole arrived at the river's edge, he was bewitched, transfixed,
and so was I,
the first time I laid eyes on an Ozarks River
Spring Greetings to All
(hope to do more posts in Spring)
Photo Credit - Meadow; Dion Art
2 pix from the treasured book, "The Wind In The Willows," a gift from my mother
The smell of flowers growing vs. the smell of fresh mown grass battle it out daily in my neighborhood, where no two neighbors mow on the same day.
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