The fields are in their morning dress, darkly wet bark and water beaded grass blades. I have my velvet pyjama bottoms, the striped top with the bonfire spark holes, a green winter coat and my Wellington boots about my person. It is not much cold at all. Dog chases the ball over the moss slope, straight through gorse and bramble and thistle. Dog retrieves the ball, each time with some jaunty flora attached to her fur. Today there is a brown oak leaf on her front right flank, giving her one avant-garde jodhpur leg. Yesterday there was a dried thistle hat. When the goose-grass comes, with its sticky burs, she will wrap some around her head in a wild bridal fashion.