A soft December walk

Walking thru the gate into the fields this December afternoon into a soft and misty world.Above me, a pigeon takes flight. Then five, then fifty.The trill of their frantic wing beats cut thru the softness.Then, the copse feels empty and the only sign of their passing are a few soft, downy feathers gently floating between the trees.There’s a thin layer of silver over the puddles on the fields. The floods have subsided but the ground hasn’t managed to absorb all that water.I crack thru the thin ice and squelch in the mud with my wellies.I see two pheasants in the distance but they hear me and fly away. There’s no way to walk softly today.Then, a familiar face; my village friend Mike with his new Labrador pup Molly. Molly and I just met but already love each other. There’s nothing in the world like the enthusiasm and affection of a new puppy. Mike and I hug and promise to see each other soon.And then home for afternoon tea.