Last summer in England Nan and I went for a "jaunt" through the countryside. Specifically we hiked (for MILES) through the Cotswolds. As Nan says, "I think I still have some cotswolds in me pants!" During our adventures we came across a very large, VERY dead badger. His spirit has remained with us (possibly b/c we feared we would be joining him...)
Anyway... Matt was working in the region this week. And I said, "You didn't happen to see my friend the dead badger did you?" His reply: "I saw four dead badgers, including a baby. And a dead fox." (Are the cotswolds really in E TN?!!) I digress....
So I told Nan... She has decided she and Matt need to write a guide to the cotswolds-- in which she will discuss proper sun protection. (She is still the ONLY person I know who goes to England and gets a sunburn!)
This whole new addition to our tale prompted Nan to become a poet:
I have written an ode. I call it "Elegy to a Dead Badger, Happened Upon by the Side of the Motorway Whilst on Holiday in the Cotswolds."
O badger, dead badger, I sing to thy grace:
The grimacing rictus of thy stripe'd face.
Thy claws ever clutching
T'ward Heavenly space.
Thy limbs in their stiffness
Of Death's cold embrace.
What didst thou, poor badger, to warrant such end,
Alone by the roadside, sans lover or friend?
Hadst thou been but wary
The traffic to 'tend,
Thy blood might not into
Black asphalt yet blend.
-- Alice Mary Stilton-Teacosy*
* As some of you rememeber, Nan and I came up with British names to use on our journey.
So let us all take pause, and remember our friend, Mr. Dead Badger. (and his bretheren that have since joined him along their frolics in the Cotswolds.)