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When a friend calls to me from the road and slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don't stand still and look around. On all the hills I haven't hoed, and shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, blade-end up and five feet tall, and plod: I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit.
This is a link to my husband Tim Richardson's home page
And this is a link to the Richardson family web site
And another of Tim's websites
Photos Paris Photos
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