September 15, 2013
The still of a Sunday morning... a day of rest, a day of worship. All is quiet here at Hare Hollow. There's even a hush at MouseHouse this morning, albeit a chilly one. A thread of smoke from the Walnut Woodstove ribbons from the tiny hole in the eave, and with it the aroma of corn cakes sizzling on the tiny griddle that Sir Fivel brought home, a wonderful find-- those few pieces of discarded paper-clip. He skillfully wove them together, cleaned and polished the results, and presented it to Fivelina with shy reserve. I expect he knew well that, not only would she love it, he'd benefit too, and sure enough, he has the round little belly to show for it.
Ah, but lest I get side-tracked here... it is Sunday morning. I must be getting ready for God's day.