Explore "A Kangaroo Shoot" by Rolf Boldrewood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Another month has passed. The calendar shows that the midwinter is over, and still the much-dreaded New England cold season has not asserted itself. Such weather as we have had in this last week of June has been mild and reassuring. Certes, there have been days when the western blast bit shrewdly keen, and ordinary garments afforded scant protection. In the coming spring there may be wrathful gales, sleet and hail-snow, even. We must not 'hollo till we are out of the wood.'
In the meantime it is not displeasing to see a trifle of mud again-marshes filling with their complement of water; to hear the bittern boom and the wild drake quack in the reed-bordered pool,-sights and sounds to which I have been a stranger for years and years.