Once Upon A Meadow, sideways of the gaudy clover patch, a pair of gardening gloves lie abandoned and forgotten.
They used to protect the fingers of Franny the Magnificent, an Edinburgh gardener of style and repute. But Franny moved on to higher places and things, like TV cheffing.
So passed the gloves to a careless nephew (and enemy of syntax) named Jarvis. He rarely used them for their intended purpose, preferring instead to insert porridge and leave them in odd places to frighten people with a fear of hands. Several maiden uncles were killed in this manner, and so the gloves were removed from Jarvis' care by a thoughtful squirrel.
Sadly the gloves were a little too heavy for the nameless squirrel to carry very far, and the burden of them made her appear most ungainly. So she dropped them in a meadow, which is where you came in.
Who knows what other adventures lie in store for these finger sheaths extraordinaire? I refer you to someone other than I.
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