Tales from the mountain - part 3

Hello. Well, it's Friday again, so it must mean it's time for more of Margaret's wonderful writings. As you will have read on Wednesday, I do so enjoy what Margaret writes as you will have read in Wednesdays post on the Centaur Connection. I am very grateful too for all the comments you write, as is Margaret as you will read below. So, have a super weekend and I will speak with you next week! Best wishes



The days are now getting shorter at the ranch. The once overflowing heart-shaped pond has shrunk into a lumpy looking potato. As the summer passed, Autumn and I watched the purple forest clover turn to the carpeting sunshiny buttercups in the meadows, which eventually fell underneath the waving oceans of daises. These were later pushed out by the prickly purple thistles and now the Queen Anne's lace is trying its’ hardest to dress up the dry and dusty pasture. The cool autumn winds are starting torattle the skeletons of the headless thistles, that I think Autumn had a big part in plucking this season, and the mountains sit crisp, waiting for the winter rains to fall.


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