In the garden, I splashed about in mud up to my chest. Half-frozen, lumpy mud. Typical. No other children experienced slush and hail at their summer-holiday-destinations. Closer to the fence, the mud became deeper and soon I disappeared under the surface. The exit must have drifted past me because when I thought I had swum back to the house I found a cave instead. In the cave sat a small gnome-woman with my aunt’s face. She had a loom which she used to weave one black cloud after another. When I asked her which direction my house was, she said:
‘Shh! I’m weaving.’
‘But how am I going to get home from here?’
‘It cannot possibly be my problem whether you can find your way or not,’ her fingers flew back and forth another black cloud appearing under them.
I gave up asking her anything more after that.
It took me hours before I found my way home.
A Bolg? 
iamforchange
/ December 9, 2012I love your pages and your form of self-expression, it is a pleasure to have you share your gifts through your pages Thank you. I have nominated you for blog of the Year please visit my page Blog of the year awards and nominations Thank you! Revised
Posted on December 9, 2012
W. R. Woolf
/ December 10, 2012Thank you very much. I’m glad you like my blog 🙂
And thank you again for the nomination 🙂