I am in total agreement with the Met Office. This has been the wettest January for 100 years, and parts of many local footpaths are ankle deep in mud. As usual friends turned up for the weekly dog walk down to the pub on Tuesday, bringing the usual winter footwear of walking boots. Richard and I, the two locals, knew better. I donned wellies before we set off, and when we called for Richard, a few houses up the Lane, his wellies were ready by the front door.
Having seen our not quite so local fellow walkers Hilly and Taff leaping to the left and right of the footpath, and occasionally attempting a long jump, all to avoid the worst of the mud, I suspect that it will be full welly turn out next week.
Lesia is now fit enough to join us on our weekly pub-walkies, and has done so a couple of times, but as long as the footpath down to the village remains in its current state, she remains at home, otherwise she will going to bed distinctly damp after a late night hosing. Short haired Tia is no problem – the mud can almost be wiped off of her fur, and she dries quickly.
Roll on springtime.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
