A fog-soaked winter afternoon

Skye was ecstatic. Despite this being her third walk of the day, she pelted across the field in pure joy. Her fluffy winter fur slicked back in the wind. Ear tips tinged green from the fog soaked ground.

We passed a robin, perched on top of the rusted bridge post. Assessing their territory whilst singing out gleefully. One of the only songbirds to keep their song, and territory, all year round. They add a much appreciated melody to a winter landscape.

Sheep were speckled across the field before us. White mounds more distinct now the snow has melted for a time. Much to Skye’s frustration, she is put on a short lead as we pass through. I nod to a few as I pass in friendly acknowledgment.

Despite Skye being completely unfazed by the sheep, eyes fully locked on our destination ahead, where she can run free again, she tends to ruffle feathers. Or wool, in this case. Being a dog is one thing, but being a border collie is quite another when it comes to sheep. They are of course unaware of her complete lack of herding ability. More than once we have accidentally herded sheep whilst passing by field. Not that Skye has noticed of course.

One sheep took a particular dislike to us. Head snapping up on our approach, we met the furious stare. This being followed by a decided stamp of its Dalmatian spotted leg. We took the hint and kept our distance as we meandered past. I could still feel eyes boring into my back as we disappeared into the trees.

There is a certain type of peace of a late afternoon walk. Today, a slightly damp Tuesday in February, it was especially the case. No sunshine to draw people out from their homes.

I pause a moment to admire the reflection of a winter tree. Its sage-green lichen encrusted branches painted beautifully by the dark pool. Lichen and moss taking the place of leaves for this season.

The gentle murmur of mallard’s carries in the breeze. This rises to a higher crescendo as Skye emerges to drink from their river. I watch her nervously. It was not long ago that she managed to accidently plunge down headfirst into this deceptively deep water. In panic (mine not hers) I had to drag her out as she scrambled with the steep bank. I’m not sure which one of us came out wetter on that occasion.

As I pause with her, I scan the water. Looking for the flicker of blue that I am sometimes lucky enough to encounter. The still water makes this a favoured spot for kingfishers, while the rushing water further downstream is the ideal home for dippers.

Admist the chatter of the mallards, there is a higher cheeping of a nervous moorhen. Much less sociable than the ducks, this moorhen retreats on my approach. Attempting to hide behind the row of ducks. White spotted rump bobbing in the undergrowth. Its frazzled alarm reminding me of Alice’s white rabbit. Not wanting to startle it further, we moved on.

It is an afternoon for dawdling. As much as I enjoy our morning walk, there is more urgency to it. My thoughts are distracted by running through the tasks of the day. That and it is still dark before 7am, meaning that anything outwith my headtorch halo is hidden to me.

Now that the work day is behind me, I am ready to fully embrace the peace that nature offers. I pause to peer in tree holes, run my fingers through the rustle of lichen and enjoy the squelching of my boots picking through mud. Notebook swinging in my hand. Waiting to capture nature’s stories.

Skye stops dead on the track. She peers round at me over her shoulder. I recognise this posture immediately and squint ahead.

As expected, my eyes meet that of a deer. A roe hind, frozen on the river bank. A small blade of grass protruding from her mouth. Fur darkened from the fog. Time suspends. She is the first to break contact. Silently melting in the trees.

The fog that has engulfed the day steadily starts to descend again. Veiling the snow patched hills. With it the rain returns on the haphazard breeze. A sign that it is time to return to our tiny home, for a much anticipated cup of tea and hobnob or two. A perfect end to the afternoon.

---