Feb 1 and then...

small stones

A hole in the heather
Inside that hole is a whole way of life:
A rabbbit burrow, warren of tunnels;
Mice in tiny corners beneath the grass
And worms and insects flourish.

the cool smooth feel of the wet peat we unearthed
so clean so fresh;
yet when we get home we wash off the dirt.

Clean away the dirt
 Brush away the cobwebs
A fresh start.
but look at those cocoons
they're home to spiderlings
they probably eat midges
We'll keep the cobwebs then

I Spy....
(Writing prompt...WOWH)

We are in the car and I choose S.
They guess and guess and have to give up.
"So what was it then" my brother asks.
"Stink" I say.
"But you can't see that."
"Almost," I reply "it's strong enough."
"Yes it's pretty bad."
"You could cut it with a knife!"
We all four mum and dad, brother and I look at the dog, who's from next door - (we're dog-sitting his holiday.)
He looks back at us and we all shake our heads
I'm sure he shakes his…
It is now that we realise the stench comes from the fields outside -
Bone meal fertiliser is far les fragrant than, what gran used to call the "good country smells" -  fresh manure.
We all apologised to the dog.

I spy with my little eye something beginning with...
Any letter that I choose.
Which obscure item can I use?
I spy something that makes me want to cry
A dog like mine and I hear someone calls his name.