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I was sitting on the deck with the girls this morning when four, separate people with their dogs, walked by on the woodland track behind the house. Nothing particularly unusual in that. It was a bit odd that they were walking about ten metres apart and ignoring each other. No, what was really odd was the fact that the dogs seemed to be having a rather loud conversation with each other.
I heard the dogs long before I saw the humans. The barking was loud and distinctive. But it wasn’t a chorus. It consisted of each dog barking loudly, once, then a second, a third and finally the fourth dog responding. As I said, it was a conversation.
Then, as the humans hove into view, the strange distance between them looked like a deliberate parade of canine walkers and their charges. It was quite odd and lasted longer than you’d think it should. I guess the dogs had a lot to say to each other.
Of course, Emma and Freya ignored it all. They were just lying next to me, thinking of this week’s climb up Mount Trosa.
Mirinda, of course, was at school, learning more Swedish so, after lunch, we three headed out.
For a change, the day was lovely. Blue sky and a light breeze; the perfect type of weather for a couple of loads of washing to dry while we set forth into the woods.
And, I’m happy to report that the big piles of earth that blocked the path last week, have been shifted to the side. It made for a much nicer ascent.
Now that makes more sense.
We were joined today by a woman in black Lycra who was striding up then down, then up again as we huffed and puffed up just the once. And she was smiling as she did. Show off. Okay, it was only me who was huffing and puffing. The girls just walked and ran like normal. Like the woman in black Lycra, in fact.
Once at the top, I had to sit for a while to remove a few pointy stones from my boots, which were stabbing my toes. This may have just been an excuse to have a bit of a rest. Or, essential stick throwing, as Emma calls it.
The walk through the woods back down was lovely. We didn’t see anyone until we reached the final track before home. A family of four (and a dog) were out foraging for, I think, mushrooms, and an elderly woman was doing the same on her own a little further along.
Back at the house, and after a much-needed beer, I did a bit more mowing, vowing to finish it before too much longer, a vain hope at best, particularly given next week’s weather forecast which predicts rain, rain and a bit more rain.
I don’t remember the mowing taking so long last year.
