Yes, the temperature finally reached a tropical 8 degrees Celsius the other day. The sun glared down upon the firmament, creating a scorching desert. The accumulated snow of months proceeded to melt.
And what should appear? Mammoth bones? No-- Wilsons!
It was a moment of ineffable joy for Buster.
I watched him with detached curiosity. His tiny brain had become overwhelmed with portents of spring--with dreams of emerging greenery and the certain knowledge that, in the not-too-distant future, he could spend every minute of every waking hour chasing and mouthing his beloved Wilsons!
This was a true triumph of joy over reason! It was a lovely thing to behold.
Your faithful correspondent,
P.S. For those who have expressed concern regarding the whereabouts of Persephone, she has surfaced. Her confessional may be found below !