Further Adventures At Dead Tree Field

More boot under the mud than over it. The mud is possessive. A limb could easily pull loose from such a gripped piece of footwear. Mud also steals socks. Patience and years of experience are harnessed: a barely perceptible wiggle releases boot and foot together. This repeats over several steps. At ankle deep the effort is less. A grin appears.

Nearly stuck.

Nearly slipped.

Better to be mud slapped than the one who walks past the open gate uncurious.

Dog throws herself with the proper abandon and sometimes appears as a head sticking up from the hedge. The sky squeezes out more rain, and more. And what do badgers do for drainage? Gaping in the reddish earth these holes evoke cold versions of the Cu Chi tunnel entrances: are they for badgers, then, or do small people live here? Or something humanoid: trollish or faeriefied?

One should not assume to know, of course, lest the world become bereft of surprise.

Comments

Suze said…

I have often passed by the open gate, unsufficiently curious--should there be sufficient mud.

I rather think of you as the more daring part of me, Lisa Southard, since I know we are One. :)

27 January 2014 at 04:56

Lisa Southard said…

Well, your trousers will be a lot more presentable than mine. I usually have to take mine off in the porch to avoid dripping muddy water all over the kitchen! Fine line between daring and daft but it's how I like to live :-) Also daring and brave are not quite the same- and because we are One I know you are brave :-)

27 January 2014 at 21:17

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