A Short Country Mile in the Rain

Today I walked a short country mile in the rain, on cliffs above a sea coloured like dull pewter. All sparkle had been pressed from the sea by low clouds.

I do not usually walk in the rain. Being always self employed I can manage my days around times when the rain ceases. But today I chose to walk in the rain. The dogs were not impressed. I left Bella at home because she is old and does not need to be cold and wet. Lurchers do not like the rain, but, I observed, once they have reached a maximum saturation their need to stretch their limbs and run exceeds their wish to be curled in a soft warm place.

There were few birds in the air. Rain does not suit birds. Owls will be hungry tonight if the rain does not stop.

And as I walked The Liveships sailed through my mind, and thoughts of finishing swans and future, until the cold sent me home to bring in logs, to make cawl, to draw, to paint. Getting in the logs I thought I heard Floss behind me, but it was just the ghost of my poor old mad sheepdog. I hope she has not come to round up Bella. Not yet. Not just yet. A little more time with Bella would be good, but her sand glass is running lower.

Time to paint, and to draw. Yes.

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