tempus fugit

By ceridwen

Putting the boots in

Whenever I walk the footpaths around Goodwick Moor, a  wooded valley between our 'twin towns', I stop and ponder on this peculiar display of objects set out on a corner between the houses and the  sportsground. It has elements of a wildlife  feeding station, an ornamental garden and a shrine.  Coloured stones, a bird bath, a ceramic cockerel and the three monkeys that see, hear and speak no evil  were all carefully arranged on a bed of gravel but what really piqued my curiosity was the pristine pair of quilted polyester bootees,  neatly placed like votive offerings. I could not by any stretch of the imaginaton account for their being there, unless their owner had suddenly levitated, minus footwear. What can the explanation be?

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