Sally Hart

By rosiecatwoman

Dave

My pal having delivered my weekly organic fruit and veg kindly thought about the problem Acidanthera pot and solved it for me. I needed to get it to a frost free place so it could dry out.

Glorious blue skies here this morning. So as part of my quest to go look at bits of Norwich not seen before I legged it to Wensum park where ducks and geese were being fed. See 2 extra's.

Here's a bit more of John Clare's November poem with thanks to those of you reading and commenting.

The pigeon wi its breast of many hues
That spangles to the sun turns round and round
About its timid sidling mate and croos
Upon the cottage ridge where oer their heads
The puddock sails oft swooping oer the pen
Where timid chickens from their parents stray
That skulk and scutter neath her wings agen
Nor peeps no more till they have sailed away

Such rural sounds the mornings tongue renews
And rural sights swarm on the rustics eye
The billy goat shakes from his beard the dews
And jumps the wall wi country teams to hie 
Upon the barn rig at their freedom flyers
The spotted guiney fowl---- hogs in the stye
Agin the door in rooting whinings stand
The freed colt drops his head and gallops bye
The boy that holds a scuttle in his hand
Prefering unto toil the common rushy land

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