The Things I’ll Miss

Falling asleep to the rhythmic hoot of the owl in the apple tree, and waking to the sound of hooves as Nimrod, Raffles and Maeve escape their stable to canter the high meadow outside the bedroom window.

Coming home on freezing days and feeling the wall of warmth that rushes to embrace my cold face as I enter the kitchen where the Rayburn softly purrs.

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