Author: G. Jefferies
It was one of those crisp September mornings. The sort where early morning dew hangs from spider webs; dangling on each strand of silk creating creating eerie artwork that only nature can produce with unabashed genius.
Back in the day of single paned windows, condensation dabbed the glass next to the side jambs in an inverted arc that carried toward the sill asking mould to grow if no-one exercised the leathers to dry them off. Continue reading