In the Gallery this morning, I never really warmed up. Dressed in leggings, vest, long sleeved tee shirt, pullover, woolen scarf and a goretax jacket, I appeared to have no neck whatsoever and had to constantly raise my chin so I didn't mumble through the scarf.
Back at home, Michael had the tile fire roaring. I gratefully discarded two layers and the scarf, though my feet still resembled ice packs in my shoes. Larissa joined us for a cup of afternoon tea. She was dressed in as many layers on as I'd had, plus a beanie. She looked ready to lead an Antarctic expedition.
Eventually, I decided the only way to properly warm up and stretch out was to go for a walk. Michael's response to an invitation to join me was a succinct "are you mad?' I was disinclined to take the Beagle with me as she is always troublesome, being on a finite leash. Anyway, she'd already excavated herself under the fence for a walk twice, so I figured she'd had enough exercise.
My pullover, jacket and scarf went on again. Pip was very keen, but Sascha was either being deliberately obtuse or was having a senior moment. Michael assisted her out the front door with a quick poke of his foot on her rear end. Mission accomplished.
Once outside, the two dogs were ecstatic to have a gallop. Sascha, all of thirteen years old, with developing cataracts and somewhat wobbly legs, took off like a firecracker. A wide Weimaraner smile spread across her face. Pip was his usual energetic self, darting and weaving and bouncing, as only a Jack Russell can. They were both in their element.
Neither of them spotted the young red kangaroo standing quite still by the river. I removed my camera quietly from my pocket. We had a silent satisfying conversation for around thirty seconds. Then the kangaroo chose to leave, making so little noise the dogs were still totally unaware of another animal in their midst.
We continued onto the river bank. The river was higher than I'd ever seen. Early, regular rain had filled our rivers, salt lakes, creeks and soaks right through the Wheatbelt. The light was soft and muted. The sounds of the evening birds filled the air. We turned and headed for home.
About halfway along the fire break, I spotted Madame Cat waiting for us. She joined us for a stroll, not too close, as she would have hated to give the impression she was voluntarily accompanying two dogs. She did concede to having her photo taken.
My feet now happily warm, I thought I'd entered a furnace when I opened the front door of the House that Rocks. After a bracing walk, the fire announced its heat as I walked in. I rapidly removed layers and returned to normal temperature.
As I write this, my feet are still warm and we are about to climb into our cosy bed. The reward for a bit of exercise. Bliss!
Are you looking at me?
Hmmm...
See you later...
The Avon River
Reflections
and ripples...
An ancient Weimaraner having a marvellous time.
Pip preparing for blast off...
Where the hell have you been?
Since you're here, I might as well join you for the remainder of this walk!
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