After church and before lunch yesterday three of us went for the most magical long, long walk through the snow, over the fields, along the disused railway line towards Eydon,
onto a backroad so covered in snow that only a local could have followed it (first photo above), up to the pines,
and onto the cart track home.
The snow was deep & crisp & even. Slightly iced on top and pure powder underneath for a full five inches.
We took the three dogs, Billy the Whippet, Maudie the Jack Russell & Posetta Baddog, our irascible miniature dachshund. Billy showed off his parkour skills, hurtling sideways three feet up off fallen logs, and skidding through the snow after imaginary rabbits.
Maudie struggled in the deep snow out in the open but, once she had found the sheep paths under the trees at the edge of the field, trotted along with terrier purpose.
Posetta, well, poor Posetta got left behind. She wore her special Christmas sweater and, as we strode off through the snow marvelling at the view across the fields to Canon’s Ashby,
we failed to notice that PB had got stuck in the snow.
She’d made it from the gate (two trees in from the left) but, as the snow got deeper, her little legs sank and sank until she could no longer forge ahead.
When I walked back she was quite literally stuck. And whimpering. I picked her up, tucked her under my arm and carried her through the field until we found a sheep path that she could walk in.
Then she got stuck again on the bridge to the railway line. I guess that’s a big jump when your legs are only two inches high.
Then we met some sheep:
PB kept up valiantly
and we made it home, three miles later, in just under two hours.