It was the day of the autumnal equinox and Algy was in contemplative mood, thinking of the long months ahead when the hours of darkness would far outnumber those of light – if indeed there was any light worth mentioning, for even when the sun did manage to put in an appearance during the winter months in the wild west Highlands of Scotland, it was barely able to lift itself above the hilltops, and on days when the Scotch mist smothered the landscape, a few hours of hazy semi-twilight were all that could be expected.
But for the moment the light was reasonably bright for the time of year, and from time to time the sun emerged from behind the clouds to illuminate the few patches of flowers left in the more sheltered areas of the garden. Algy had to admit that there was very little warmth left in it now, but even cool sunshine was a great deal better than no sunshine (a condition which had prevailed far too often in recent months), and the late September day was pleasantly bright and cheerful.
Finding himself a rather damp but stable perch on some old logs, Algy gazed at the jolly pink spikes of the persicaria around him, admiring their hardiness and determination, for they were growing on little more than a tiny covering of soil over solid rock. On the other side of the pathway, a number of chirpy sparrows were hopping about busily, looking for food, and he observed that there were still some young ones among them, flapping their wings petulantly as they begged to be fed by their parents, despite the advanced season and the fact that they were already full grown.
So, for their especial benefit and edification, Algy started to recite a children's poem which he had learned himself long, long ago, at a time when he too had been just a very small and fluffy wee chick, and which he had taken great pleasure in reciting to his own mother – a poem which his good friend @fatchance had happily brought to his attention again just a few days ago:
James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree Took great Care of his Mother, Though he was only three. James James Said to his Mother, "Mother," he said, said he; "You must never go down to the end of the town, if you don't go down with me." James James Morrison's Mother Put on a golden gown. James James Morrison's Mother Drove to the end of the town. James James Morrison's Mother Said to herself, said she: "I can get right down to the end of the town and be back in time for tea." King John Put up a notice, "LOST or STOLEN or STRAYED! JAMES JAMES MORRISON'S MOTHER SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN MISLAID. LAST SEEN WANDERING VAGUELY: QUITE OF HER OWN ACCORD, SHE TRIED TO GET DOWN TO THE END OF THE TOWN – FORTY SHILLINGS REWARD!" James James Morrison Morrison (Commonly known as Jim) Told his Other relations Not to go blaming him. James James Said to his Mother, "Mother," he said, said he: "You must never go down to the end of the town without consulting me." James James Morrison's mother Hasn't been heard of since. King John said he was sorry, So did the Queen and Prince. King John (Somebody told me) Said to a man he knew: "If people go down to the end of the town, well, what can anyone do?" (Now then, very softly) J.J. M.M. W.G.Du P. Took great C/0 his M***** Though he was only 3. J.J. said to his M***** "M*****," he said, said he: "You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-if-you-don't-go-down-with-ME!"
[Algy is reciting the children's poem Disobedience from the collection When We Were Very Young by A. A. Milne.]
