Hearing the rain hammering against the windows as I woke up yesterday morning, adding itself to the heavy rain of Friday morning, and further adding itself to the snow-melt, my first thought was that all of the local fields would be a mud-fest and that I would find a tarmac-only route for a quick, local walk.
At 3.30pm, we were rapidly running out of daylight and I had failed to even glance at a map. Out came my new gaiters (my only gaiters, actually; I’m not a gaiter fan) in an effort of saving my trousers from another dose of mud, and off we set on our usual “shuffle around the block” route.
I wasn’t wrong about the mud, and the gaiters didn’t save the trousers. So much mud was being kicked up by our boots that not only were the trousers liberally spattered, but my jacket didn’t escape either (and my mittens ended in a disgusting state). When an over-excited dog came tearing across the field at us and (in spite of my pleas not to jump up me) jumped up me, the muddy paw-prints were barely noticeable amongst the spatter.
Returning home just as darkness was overtaking us, I resolved to find a mud-free route for today (Sunday).