I am standing in the middle of a rather muddy puddle, astonished that no one is scolding me for my foolishness. There is no official age limit to prohibit me from playing in puddles, but children are granted a certain priority to be the primary competitors in this sporting event.
As a former teacher, I always kept an eye out for the best puddles. They seemed to attract any child wearing thin tennis shoes and soon to be sodden socks or the exuberant child, who being outfitted with the appropriate rainboots, entered all puddles and promptly stomped dirty water on anyone within range. Knowing the siren call of puddles, I bought the school lots of pairs of spare rainboots. (Children usually had more spare clothes to change into than shoes.)
I am sitting
In the middle
Of a rather muddy
With my bottom
Full of bubbles
And my rubbers
Full of mud.
Who could ever forget the beginning of the poem “Muddy Puddles” by the Canadian award-winning poet Dennis Lee. I haven’t yet gone to the lengths of his character, but out on my wet day dog walks, I purposely wear my purple boots. I am on the Board of my community. I could say that while standing in a puddle I was just checking the road condition. A Board responsibility. Would anyone believe me?
The daily walks with my slower and older dog are casual stop-and-go affairs. Hoping to up our game, I requested booties for the her for Christmas, since Lizzie does not like snow or ice between her toes. But those little purple booties were not appreciated. To her they were more like new chew toys. Therefore, I must still carry Lizzie across the icy streams and make the walks in snow or ice short ones. Or even leave her at home for the longer treks. Here is a view on a Christmas Day of a walk out the cabin and up the hill, sans dog.
Ordinarily the pace of Lizzie allows me to see my neighborhood in all of its micro facets.
The toes of ice formations hanging above the stream.
The bolt holding the bridge railing down in the sun after a rain.
The interesting structures made of ice on a frozen patch.
And, again a puddle. This one without me but holding the sunset. I live in a lovely place… fortunate to have muddy puddles and occasional ice.
Lizzie is fortunate for the opportunity to curl up on her favorite place after a walk. Lucky dog.