At a place called Tower Hill I was wondering around taking pictures and enjoying the surroundings.
All of a sudden I heard the pitter patter of little feet. The bushes on the left hand side of the path were rustling. One set of feet were moving away from the path but the other set were headed right for me. I’m not sure if they were brown or black. I just didn’t want to get sprayed. I let out a yell and ran up the hill as fast as my little old legs could carry me.
Quilting Friends Row by Row
3 years ago