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In a leafy lane of Devon
There's a cottage that I know,
Then a garden—then, a grey old crumbling wall,
And the wall's the wall of heaven
(Where I hardly care to go)
And there isn't any fiery sword at all.
- Alfred Noyes“What your uncle was doing, leaving the whole sorry mess to you, I can’t imagine,” the aunt tuts. Her emphasis makes it rather unclear which part she find less explicable: the bequest, or the recipient. “But the man always was rather odd. Always reading, or digging up a field on some contrived excuse.” Aunt Edwina levels her nephew with a rather pointed glare and he looks quickly away.
“I’m sure it won’t take long,” the nephew sidesteps cautiously.
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A million blessings upon this wholesome AF tale of romance and survival and Found Family. Just. Ugh. YES.
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Bookmark Notes:
in adoration of simple pleasures
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contxt - polyamory panel