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The Tanglewood YearAutumn in Tanglewood had always been Fitzgibbon’s favourite time of the year. In winter the trees stood naked and gnarled under bleak, heavy clouds or steel grey sky, while damp, icy fog hugged the ground between them. The fog was just high enough to obscure the undergrowth, which meant that walking became an even more difficult task than usual and also meant, if you were four feet high like Fitzgibbon, that within three minutes you were soaked to the waist. Because of the pervasive damp his banjo was impossible to keep tuned, and his sister Elva was always crabby when she couldn’t see the sun, so winter passedThe Tanglewood Year
by ~thylacine-girl
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- Interests: Art, stating the obvious and happiness ^^
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I want to find that person who will hold me and tell me everything will be alright, and who, just by holding me, can make me believe them.
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I want to find that person who will hold me and tell me everything will be alright, and who, just by holding me, can make me believe them.
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