June 2021.

O cold the black-frost night. The walls draw in to the warmthand the old roof cracks its joints; the slung kettlehisses a leak on the fire. Hardly to be believed that summer will turn up again some day in a wave of rambler-roses,thrust it’s hot face in here to tell another yarn-a story old Dan can spin into a blanket against the winter.Seventy years of stories he clutches round his bones.Seventy years are hived in him like old honey.Judith Wright

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