Vincent van Gogh Olive grove I

Vincent van Gogh Olive grove IVincent van Gogh Madhouse garden of St-RemyVincent van Gogh Landscape at Auvers in the Rain
paint my toenails red when I was young,” said Nanny, wistfully.
“Toenails is different. So’s red. Anyway,” said Granny, “you only did it to appear allurin’.”
“It worked, too.”
“Hah!”
They walked along in silence for a bit.
“I felt a lot of power there,” Nanny Ogg said, eventually.
“Yes. I know.”
“A lot.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not saying you couldn’t beat her,” said Nanny quickly. “I’m not saying that. But I don’t reckon I could, and it seemed to me it’d raise a bit of a sweat even on you. You’ll have to hurt her to beat her.”
“I’m losin’ my judgment, aren’t I?”
“Oh, I—““Sorry, Esme.”
A bat fluttered by. Granny nodded to it.
“Heard how Magrat’s getting along?” she said, in a tone of voice which forced casualness embraced like a corset.
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LORQ6 ft/YD iftQ/£6“She riled me, Gytha. Couldn’t help myself. Now I’ve got to duel with a gel of seventeen, and if I wins I’m a wicked bullyin’ old witch, and if I loses ...”She kicked up a drift of old leaves.“Can’t stop myself, that’s my trouble.”Nanny Ogg said nothing.“And I loses my temper over the least little—““Yes, but—““I hadn’t finished talkin’.”