Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Country diary: Wenlock Edge

10:18 AM | Posted by Free Game Zone | | Edit Post

When ripe apples fall and no one picks them up, then this is a strange land. Chiff-straw, trash, poorly-HAP, go back, it was the last day of the Chiff-Chaff called Windmill Hill. The summer was burned like straw in a truck loaded with bales of straw and Chiff, clinging to an ash tree, waited for the coast to clear and the wind calm down before hitting his journey south. There was a thunderstorm and the air was electric. Shreds of cloud, agitated, and the spectrum of gray, churning across the sky, leaving a patch over one eye more bright blue. Far Hills is tarnished when a band of swallows sank in just a spoon Wrekin peas in the north. Half of a flutter on the ground and the disaster if they hit something, swallows slipped under the radar of wind and death.

  • A handful of nuts was on the road. Each nut was emptied by a clean hole in the shell. This has given nuts feel empty artifacts - carefully crafted with skills passed down through the millennia. These documents were like gifts, precious objects of beauty, the work log. In the dark of hazel branches in general, the dormouse ran his ways invisible to collect nuts, cutting and clearing, feeding on their crops and leave them empty shells in the same place. Daylight falls asleep somewhere in the trees ended up in the queue in a nest of dry grass, deep in their dreams. What these rodents Ginger Elf sleeping forest? Can you imagine that this land where no one seemed to stir?
  • Mile after mile, town after town, no one worked in the fields or gardens or walk along the roads, traffic only on the roads. Where was everyone? The Chiff-Chaff was, ripe apples from a tree had fallen on the road and no one picked up. What is a foreign land, it was.

Time
summer the sun

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