It was dusk, and Ken and I were at the supper table. The table sits beside a window that faces north. All of a sudden Ken was gesticulating and pointing toward the window. The word he was whispering was so out of context that it took me a few seconds to figure out what he was trying to tell me: that a bat had just alit on the window screen.
The bat stayed there for almost an hour as though it was resting, and by 9 p.m. it was gone.
A gothic cottage certainly ought to have its bats.
One Comment
So cool, your home and the surroundings
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