Hearing the wind battering around last night like an angry giant who’s lost something really, really small and doesn’t realise that stomping and howling is not the way to locate something that doesn’t want to be found, I honestly thought I would be flying malamute kites this morning. I had visions of airborne moots, with tails as rudders, and happy, laughing eyes, ducking and diving through the pre dawn sky – although as usual my mind turned to the problem of poo, and could I avoid the falling turds of doom? But even so, I had a musical mix of Mary Poppins and early Kate Bush in my head, which tbh is not that unusual.
Skipping along with my malamute kites, watching them swoop at freeflying rabbits, and leaves of gold that would fill the sky around them. However, the reality of mud, staying vertical and blooming cold was very different.
Ho hum, coffee time now then writery type stuff – ‘ready my quill and parchment, serf’