Morning Walk

The grass is almost always wet and where the animals have not been grazing it grows through the summer to thigh height, drenching any clothes depute the wellington boots (galoshes). The summer sun is always there, so hot sometimes it is best to walk the fields under the ash, hazel and sycamore tree shadows. Storms pass and break off twigs and branches which make for a ready supply of sticks to throw for the dogs, if one had normal dogs. Momo, rescued as a stray seven years ago, has never chased sticks not shown any interest in them. Queenie-Colleen being a collie, a lady and more intelligent than most didn’t have the slightest interest in them for months, until I stopped throwing them and tapped her back with them and danced around, then she grabbed at my hand as all collies tend to do and I had to teach her to only go for the stick.

She still prefers just to dance with me and not run after them, and she won’t do even that if she hears a loud noise or gets too close to the horses and other animals. They scare her. They scare me sometimes.

We often see the hawks waiting for the dozens of rabbits who skip across the fields at the slightest movement to gain their burrows. A few neighbours walking their dogs. A car now and then which the dogs skirt to one side much to the amusement of city drivers who have never seen dogs trained with cars.

This is peace.