I walk my dogs regularly. I find it prepares them for a hectic schedule of lolling around the house, chewing each other's ears and messing with the cat. I enjoy this time out immensely as we stroll country roads, past herds of cows, the odd sheep and goat, tractors and large agricultural trucks trailing smells of an eye pricking nature. The dogs get a whiff and you can see the frission it creates in them in their posture: nose in the air, ears alert. FWhoar!!!
It may or may not rain on us. We may or may not meet others out for a walk. Crazy Violin teacher-lady might roller-blade past us.That scruffy dog who barks from the porch may or may not engage with us today.We will definitely pull towards the entrance of the apple orchard where all the dogs like to post a note. ( I would like a nomination award for the best euphemism of the year, please!) We see calves, daffodils and blossom at the moment. Each season has it's own flavour and sights.
Spring is traditionally wet. The dogs did not get a walk this morning as it was bucketing down. The kind of rain that, if heard around 6.30 am , would push you fully into the arms of pulling a sick day. I am usually stoic, but sorry doggies, no walk today.
I lit the fire early and they seem to have accepted the status quo for today: Dogs in front of fire, me painting.
This happy dog is asleep on the throw that has fallen off the couch.
Oil on board
30 x 30 cm