Swampy Days

It was raining heavily when I woke today. I wonder how my Leens would handle that. I wonder if they would find it oppressive to either be trapped in the cabin or get wet wandering about in the damp. I read for a long time, letting the rain pass, and then I went to the swamp and looked at how much water was flowing into the really wet area, really a widening of the creek, and I pulled out some rock and sticks to direct the flow. Then I carried a few buckets of muck from the closer swampy area and did some digging on the hole which has aspirations of becoming a pond.

I’d noticed when I was near the swamp that the brakes were starting to appear so I grabbed a couple of cookie containers and my bag and went to the creek. I filled both containers fairly easily without even going further upstream than Bashful’s place.

When I returned it was getting late so I did some more digging and then gathered my food for dinner. I am back to eating only two meals a day, and I don’t really miss the other meal. I should start some of my greenhouse plants soon. It still gets cold at night, but not really below freezing anymore.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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