off season

Here is what the mice play when the fat cats are away. The whole scene, photographed by my brother-in-law from the top floor of his house, puts me in mind of a Bruegel. Perhaps it's the scale. I wish we could put our hands up to the fire they had burning and taste the marshmallows they toasted. But my houses (in background) are drained and buttoned up tight for the season, and only the real islanders are at play now. Maybe they'll take up curling if conditions hold.