“…don’t you love her madly as she’s walkin’ out the door…”

Winter is leaving us and I, for one, will miss her.  From when “the frost is on the pumpkin (heads) and the fodder’s in the shock, and the new colt’s baying…”   How does the poem go?  “…her stung kiss ‘pon cheek and ear, I shall miss ‘ere those sweet disciplines…” or something like that…

Ok, I could segway on from this point, but since I’m just learning how to blog we’ll stop here.  You can consider this post (and the previous) a couple of test posts–and me still the knot-head, of course!  I know I will miss winter’s sweeter moments, though..

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