Down to the end of the garden this morning, collecting fallen leaves to admire their autumn colour and searching the wood pile for funghi, when what did I spy?
Molehills dotted about, evidence of our friend who fell from the sky recently, from my point of view this was good as it proved despite his fright and fall he was obviously strong and surviving.
Mike might not feel quite so pleased though when he sees the stretch of green interrupted by small, brown earthen mounds, I can feel a few mountains coming from these molehills.
Mind you, I'm sure moley will not be here very long once the weasel finds his molehills!
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