The Smell of Wet Dog

Today’s daily post is back to gardens and dogs.


Dreaming of the Iron Age

Dreaming of the Iron Age

Yesterday, as I was grinding my teeth on the side of a blue hockey pitch, Claire was on cloud nine taking the dogs up Cadbury Camp.  This was Ella’s first trip up what is always a great ramble for dogs and owners alike.  Dogs love it, be it rummaging through the brambles on the slopes of the iron age fort as Poppy our first dog used to, trying to flush out rabbits, or simply galloping up and down the high banked ramparts, as Fudge still does gamely at the age of 13.  I like to think that they are running with the spirits of the some old Iron Age lurchers.

Ella tried her hardest to keep up with Fudge, but body shape outdid youth quite effectively as Ella’s Labrador physique is not, apparently, designed for sprint reps – especially up and down the steep slopes of Cadbury.  Last night, neither dog strayed far from their bed all evening and Ella was truly shattered.

So...who's stressed by the wet?

So…who’s stressed by the wet?

So, today being my day off, I took them for shorter walks.  During the day we were caught in a serious shower as we were down the garden.  In terms of participation, the roles were reversed in the changed conditions.  While Ella continued to romp round the garden (probably flattening one or two cauliflowers, I suspect) Fudge quietly retreated to the garage to keep out of the rain.  It is clear which one is the water dog.

The view from the top (of the the field)

The view from the top (of the the field)

And now I have just come back from an early evening stroll up the field and back. The sky was looking typically autumnal with clouds beginning to clear after the wet day.  I count my blessings daily to be able to live in such a beautiful part of the world.  I took another picture of the view.  I probably have more of these pictures than AP McCoy has ridden winners – but I never tire of it.  The other week when the OM was having work done to the chimney, I was able to stand on the scaffolding and take some photos of the mist rising over the lower lying land and also around Cadbury Camp – as the view from the chimney is particularly impressive.  Even in the time I was up there the picture changed almost by the minute.

In the garden the only thing that is changing is how wet the soil is.  But that is fine.  I’ll stay in with the smell of damp dog to keep me company.


About midlifegardener

A new house and a new garden. Having spent the past 5 years mainting my father's garden I am now taking on my own gardening project down the road in a new single store dwelling. The Old Man has passed on but he remains in my thoughts as I develop the new patch
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