1947, mother of all winters, our oak dinner table ended up as
firewood...kept us warm for days. A deep frozen feline stood
on the top of the bin, a clawed outstretched paw, staving off
frosts attack. Days it stood there, an epic symbol of valiance, if
hopeless struggle, - brutal art - admired, but also pelted with
snowballs by impish children. Thaw, winter lost its grim grip,
the moggy crumbled fell off its pedestal. The bin lid, opened
nature’s glory ended up among potato peels and other things
discarded without a second thought.
