Prose – Page 3 – Mudwriter

Snow

Putting on my ancient, blue anorak, shapeless and baggy in all the wrong places but warm, I shove the back door open. The old door is warped and damp, the bolt broken years ago, and it gives easily. I step out into the snow, which creaks under my feet, and pick up the bucket ofContinue reading “Snow”

Otmoor

After a slightly frustrating day doing admin, I had an evening out at Otmoor with friends. It was one of those occasions when the different elements of nature conspired to make a perfect performance. On arrival, we were welcomed by a Song Thrush and soon after that a Cuckoo flew across, calling insistently. Two TurtleContinue reading “Otmoor”