Fields and footpaths

This morning we walked with the sound of bird song filling the hedgerows. The usual silly memes which are rehashed every year round about now call this a false spring or a fake spring and yes it does feel very springlike. Garden edges and lane sides are filled with the promise of daffodils while snowdrops are still abound, they are beginning to fade a little and crocus are shooting up only to be flattened by the wind or the rain. Even if this is a false spring - I'll take it, I have had my fill of a wet winter.

My mind is a whirl of debate and discussion as I try to drag myself out of my head and listen to the birds and the scrunch thud of my boots on the stony track. Willow also in a world of her own, follows scents - lead free - occasionally throwing a look over her shoulder to check I am still there. And I am.

The sky sinks lower as the clouds drag their bellies over the hill, a passing walker clutching a brolly quips up that she thinks that it will rain again - she is beautifully dressed with not a hair out of place as she happily strides down the muddy track to meet the main village road. Whereas I am togged up in my dog walking jeans, mucky wellies, old coat with a scratchy beanie perched above my eyebrows making my forehead itchy.

As we reach the furthest point of our 'dog loop' I impulsively lengthen it by turning left through the marsh field where Willow and I pick our way between the deeply muddy puddles, dark chocolate brown earth glistening with retained water. Ducks are startled by our appearance having thought the marsh field was theirs and theirs alone today. With wings clapping and a chorus of disapproval - three or four take to the air, curl round through the damp air around our heads watching as we slip and slide around the path and then with a noisy clatter land back at their original spot to continue whatever they'd been doing before we appeared.

Willow - who a few short weeks ago would have been startled in fear at the sound- now just glances up, watches briefly then returns to the serious business of following a sticky scent which is calling to her. I am relieved when we finally reach the stile and hop over back on to the stony track. We are not far from where we'd turned off however it added much needed interest and stimulation for Willow Walnut Brain who is loving learning things new.

I can hear little voices through the stand of trees between us and the primary school - play time - which seems to have a fair bit of screaming and shouting involved. Instantly we turn away, choosing another lane to make our return journey. This one narrows to a footpath edged by wildflowers and in summer is beautiful. Now, in simplified late winter garb, it is bare earth with tiny shoots, snowdrops, tete a tete daffodils and crocus drifting down between brambles and moss. At the end we reach a tumble of stone cottages jostling for space along the lane and it is time for Willow to put back on her collar and lead.

As we walk back home, I can feel a pin prick of rain on my face, glancing up I can see the clouds are definitely promising more rain, we only just get home in time, boots off, kettle on when the cat comes in with fur sparkly and wet. She stalks off to dry by the wood burner and in a few minutes, Willow, now towelled down and in bed watches me as I open the laptop and sip my tea.

photos from the weekend - 

Top - Willow in her walking harness - loving her first 'proper' miles and miles walk - most of it off lead, one very tired little doggums that evening
Bottom - wild and windy moorland walk behind the village, with a small dog who wanted a cuddle.