The beauty is the river. The beasts are my three golden retrievers out to welcome spring. Wait a minute! It is the seventh Day of December and mud baths are not on the schedule as I recall!
It has been a very unusual start to the winter. Usually by this time we are knee deep in the white stuff and people are strapping pieces of fibreglass to their feet and flying down hills or crossing country trails powdered by that cold state of water. But now instead of snow, we have muddy paths down by the river that flows just beyond the back yard.
It must call to them, to the dogs, for they find it irresistible.
Have you ever seen a golden retriever smile? They bunch up their cheeks and squint their eyes so that mud or no, they must have their walk. It also seems a rule that when there is an abundance of mud, one must find something dead to roll in and leave one’s scent for the rest of the wildlife.
I was enjoying the waterfall that drops the river down by six feet or so – not the tiniest float of ice to be seen, - while the pups had their way with all those tiny protists – the microbial things that live in mud and water – determined to bring some home for later enjoyment.
They got completely all over muddy! Legs, bellies, heads.
Fortunately, like most gardeners, I have a hose. Today it got used.
They went from brown to white and cinnamon in short order. Cold and still damp after been patted down, we all went into the house where the drying process could continue while they dreamt of adventures that might have been, of scents and critters that skittered in front of them, of the ones trying to get away.
This evening, there is no sign of the mud, but the fun still fuels their dreams.
This is a simple life with simple pleasures where beauty is found on the riverbank and the beasts gather to appreciate it. I know there are people out there who pay for mud baths but I’ll take winter’s raincheck as a gift. Today’s were on the house!
It has been a very unusual start to the winter. Usually by this time we are knee deep in the white stuff and people are strapping pieces of fibreglass to their feet and flying down hills or crossing country trails powdered by that cold state of water. But now instead of snow, we have muddy paths down by the river that flows just beyond the back yard.
It must call to them, to the dogs, for they find it irresistible.
Have you ever seen a golden retriever smile? They bunch up their cheeks and squint their eyes so that mud or no, they must have their walk. It also seems a rule that when there is an abundance of mud, one must find something dead to roll in and leave one’s scent for the rest of the wildlife.
I was enjoying the waterfall that drops the river down by six feet or so – not the tiniest float of ice to be seen, - while the pups had their way with all those tiny protists – the microbial things that live in mud and water – determined to bring some home for later enjoyment.
They got completely all over muddy! Legs, bellies, heads.
Fortunately, like most gardeners, I have a hose. Today it got used.
They went from brown to white and cinnamon in short order. Cold and still damp after been patted down, we all went into the house where the drying process could continue while they dreamt of adventures that might have been, of scents and critters that skittered in front of them, of the ones trying to get away.
This evening, there is no sign of the mud, but the fun still fuels their dreams.
This is a simple life with simple pleasures where beauty is found on the riverbank and the beasts gather to appreciate it. I know there are people out there who pay for mud baths but I’ll take winter’s raincheck as a gift. Today’s were on the house!