Wynonna clogs up the drain

It was Friday afternoon. I had just finished my lunchtime chores and was doing a photoshoot with Johnny.

When he stopped to smell the flowers on the bridge over the culvert, I spied something in the corner of the frame.

Was that a troll under the other side of the bridge?

No, it was Wynonna, taking a nap with her head practically shoved in the drain pipe.

Me: Wynonna, that's a dangerous spot to sleep. What if it starts to rain and there's a flash flood?
The water might swoop you up and carry you down the drain.

Johnny: Fat chance.

Wynonna: zzzzzzz

 

I had to get back to work, so I left Johnny to pigsit.

 

Four hours later, I went back outside and Wynonna was still in the same spot, 

although she had flipped over. A girl has to have an even tan going into summer, you know.

The rocks poking into her ribs did not appear to bother her.

Hans Christian Andersen clearly was not referring to the Porcine Princess in his fairy tale about the pea.