This is a surprise for my friend, Kary, who loves owls. I know he looks serious, and he is. An owl of few words. As soon as the sun slid behind a hill, he rose from his seat, flapped his great wings once, and glided away. One of his feathers fell away and drifted right onto the table. I've left it there for you to see.
Fred Mears, the rabbit was altogher different. Full of friendliness and charming stories of the district. I hope to tell you some at a future date.
In my pottery life, I've got a firing in the kiln and will be listing tomorrow.
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