Half a mind on Christmas

For Gladys Hotchkiss Christmas comes splitting post, ream or quire, the Yule log is spitting with sparks from the fire. Grandma is sitting her mind quite a mire of washdays and knitting of childhood desire. Yellows, blues, pinks a young girl again coloured gummed links then a paper chain of trimmings. She blinks ― her... Continue Reading →

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