wet-shot

Updated: May 26, 2025

Behind stretch the marshes, and the place is shut in and desolate. Birds cry there. The bittern booms in the thickets of grey willow and wet-shot alder. The herons nest upon the pine trees near by, till the stale scent of them comes down the wind from far.

S. R. (Samuel Rutherford) Crockett - The Black Douglas