Splashing in Puddles
It was raining all night.
I know because it was lashing on the skylight windows of my bedroom.
Cosy and comforted, it reminds me always of childhood.
It’s the same sweet recall when I open the window wide to watch for the geese and feel the chilly blast of the wind on my face while I am cocooned in warmth.
It’s only a short walk from the cottage to the WWT site and there’s not much traffic in the lane.
I am accompanied all along with birds rustling and calling in the hedgerows and the near constant background “Goose Music”. (Aldo Leopold’s essay from Round River).
Then I see them.
Black, silvery grey and white wonders beside me in the field.
There are puddles all along the roadside and I take a diversion at every one.
Why would I risk getting my feet wet?
I wander along the main avenue of the site.
Wind is picking up.
Rain can’t be far away again.
The feeling is joyous but still I make a zig zag route around so many large muddy puddles.
But I have wellies on here, not my leaky walking boots.
I had forgotten.
It is so long since I had some.
Wanton jumping in the wet.
Another memory from childhood...