Cricket Creek Bog so peace be with every place that you had

poor aengus; there was ony so much that could fit in that caboose, right? weejay spared him a sympathetic glance, that radiant smile still beaming. "soil is dirt." she affirmed, following after the young bull with her eyes peeled for where the crinkly flowers had come from.

after a few steps she realized aengus could probably benefit from an explanation. scrunching her brow, weejay tried to articulate the little knowledge she knew. "so, some plants like squishy soft soil -- like this!" she searched for a second and then jumped on a patch of damp loam that seeped from the bog; all manner of creeper plants seemed to grow in this topsoil."then others are a bit more picky. maybe they aren't as thirsty, or maybe --" weejay considered for a second whether what she was saying made any sense but then continued anyway: "maybe plants are like us, you know? they all have their own preferences and stuff. you wouldn't want to put a plant that needs a lot of sunlight and very little water in a place that's dark like a swamp, you know?"