A mid-November walk

It’s been a busy weekend with people swarming to our home town.  We’ve had a pre-Christmas art trail, with artworks bursting out of every nook and cranny.  I see people I don’t recognise clutching maps, and darting from one place to another in pursuit of the good stuff.  Some are accompanied by equally unfamiliar dogs.  Whilst it’s flattering to have the visitors, I’m relieved now they’ve gone.

Later, a riverside walk, just Moss and me, and all the life that comes with a tidal river.

The winter sun shines weakly on the water, which I notice is a little scummy at the edges.  And then, oh joy, a single Curlew gets up and flies a bit upstream, as if to give us both a thrill.  Its muted plumage blending with riverbank, only the distinctive curve of its bill giving it away.

I swear Moss stops and watches it too, despite the fact she’s just a dog.  

The only sounds; waders calling, the steady tramping of my boots, the jingle of Moss’s harness. 

In the distance a train rumbles past. 

Today’s walk is calm, reflective, breathing in the cold damp air. I’m loving every step. 

Moss takes a tentative dip into the river.  I don’t dissuade her, it’s time she learned to swim, despite the cold. 

Image:          Just Moss and me.