The quacking and chuckling of ducks and ducklings leads to the meadow, among the stones and grasses just where the gurgling river passes in its sinuous windings. Rapid water purls, not just between the banks but into ponds and ditches, fields and streams, and the convulsive weir pool where I stop to dream and breathe […]
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
writing in north norfolk 