Oh, that is just Jenny, our blind dog, engaging in some evening clishmaclaver with the neighbours—I mean our lined laundry. ; )

Across the court, strolled the red tenant at a quarter past two.

Dressed as a mort, souled the revenant at fourteen-fifteen’s boo.

So, who is who in lieu of a you view? ; )

“If only these rocks fostered a ruderal kind of friend,” pondered the mob’s steady scout. “For as much as my eyes find this task an easy tend, passionate dissent is continuously argued by tail’s other end.” ; )

When stinging bees have knocked you down to your knees and also left your heart both hard and mardy, wait for the hum that will relieve your glum by way of sweet soothes and winged well-being party. ; )

Aves as architourists do love chasing steeples and tapping bridges and alighting upon ledges and even fluttering around ceilings when squawking at murals no longer lifts the bill, but, in the end, what they cherish the most is returning to their humble abodes, where they can still dream about girders while perched perfectly upon nature’s skyscraping beams specially made for the birders. ; )