Dust Bowl Skye
Our garden has not lasted long with our energised Italian Greyhounds and Whippet. Along with the dry August winds, our garden is starting to resemble a bust bowl. Where is that promise of the summer African rains? Somehow this winter is going to end as I hear the distant roar of the lions. Soon I can turn and face the warm tears of summer as the thunder drowns out all, soon. Okay hurry now summer; don't keep us waiting as I throw another on another log onto the fire.
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