The Continuing Saga...

This bird-seed wreath thing has become an obsession! Really. I shall make a promise right now that I will not mention them again after this entry! I mean, life must go on. So let me tell you what has happened today, and be done with it. Still in my trusty plaid flannel nightie, I decorated my wreath, still heady with a decidedly beefy flavour, with a bundle of wheat sheaths and a few pine-cones, all tied up with strips of coordinating home-spun fabric in browns and soft rose-pinks(!), one floral and the other plaid for goodness sake, and attached it to the side of the wreath with a nice chunky bow. It was a sight for sore eyes. Wishing that I wasn't such a dunce with the digital camera, I never-the-less pulled on my sister Sophie's cold-weather boots and my heavy down squall jacket (hey, it was -2 degrees Fahrenheit!) and tromped out to the garden to hang the precious gift-offering onto a chosen tree where we could watch contentedly as our little birds would enjoy their treat. I also hung up the raisin icicles that my dear friend had made - 4 of them. I was pleased, however, that nobody was around to take a photograph of the vicar's wife in her nightie and winter boots out in the garden! That was 9 a.m. I left for school, and returned at about 1:30 p.m. only to find that one of the icicles had been very carefully removed, no string, no ribbons were to be found. Clever little bird! Wait, who's that hugging the wreath. Little red squirrel, that's who! He's claimed it. It's his! I looked for the sign that would read 'No birds allowed!' but he, like a good little squirrel, was using his words! No bird in its right mind would dare to come against this chattering conquistador! The days of the bird-seed wreath are surely numbered. Enough already!