I had almost finished dressing when there was a rustle in the leaves of the rhododendrons in the shrubbery. Well, the secret part may be right, but the rest is wide of the mark. and one hopping across the flags of the terrace, pecking at the ice on the covers over the table and chairs. īut no, there were more on the frozen lawn. It seemed like an omen, and for a moment I shivered. A third on the wall of the kitchen garden. A second on the weathervane of the folly. I counted them as I dressed, shivering next to the window. Magpie” under my breath, to turn away the bad luck. Today there was one perched on the frost-rimed branch of yew right outside my window, and I remembered what my mother used to say when I was little and whispered “Hello, Mr. I remember coming up the drive in the taxi from the station, seeing them lined up along the garden wall like that, preening their feathers. It’s strange to think how much I used to hate them, when I first came to the house.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |