quotes_brook.htm



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The valley was so choked with fog that one could scarcely see a cow's length across a field. Every blade, twig, bracken-frond, and hoof-print carried water, and the air was filled with the noise of rushing ditches and field-drains, all delivering to the brook below. A week’s November rain on water-logged land had gorged her to full flood, and she proclaimed it aloud.

  

This is the opening passage from “Friendly Brook” in A Diversity of Creatures.

Two hedgers in sackcloth aprons are attacking a long neglected hedgerow above a brook, roaring with the autumn rains. As the story unfolds they recall a dark tale of blackmail and revenge.