In Memory of Kenneth Grahame's son Alastair 1900-1920 to whom the Willow stories were first told.
The Mole sat toasting his toes in front of the fire. The winter wind howled safely outside, sending occasional flurries of soot down his chimney. He was thinking that things were nearly perfect, but not quite.
Mole's nephew nodded and sighed, and he lay back on the soft new grass and closed his eyes with sweet content, as the Mole himself might have done, and listened to the joyful growing sounds of spring.