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Sleepily I pull back the curtains on a dark
winters morning, mystified at what I may find
A clear crisp frosty morning? A fine powder
of snow dusted over the ground? or a drizly, drab rain soaked
day?
I come down stairs and there lies Belle,
like comfy Kate, curled up on the couch, cushions suitably arranged
around her.
The dog bed abandoned in its corner in the
kitchen!
Slowly she decides to join me as I wait for
her at the front door
Out we step into the damp misty woods and
then in a flash off she goes, rounding up imaginary sheep.
Sniffing here, scraping there, dragging
branches out of the undergrowth, as the smell of fresh pine fills the
air.
Slowly the drizzle begins to run down my
jacket and of the end of my nose
Squelching home we dump the lead, jacket and
boots at the door
A quick rub with a towel and she makes for
another favourite spot
I know where she is! before the smell of
damp dog roasting at a fire reaches my nostrils
I sit beside her in the old armchair mug of
coffee in one hand and hot buttered toast in the other, feet on the
stool
We relax for ten minutes before the rest of
the house wakes
I love our winter mornings!!
Bob frae Bannockburn.
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