Frozen Underfoot

The air was still. Cold but not biting. I was testing Dusty’s patience by taking her with me to Tesco before her walk.

She waited, chin on back seat rest as I loaded in the shopping, those big brown eyes giving me the Look.

Ok. We’ll detour and find a new walk. We decided (well actually, I decided – Dusty doesn’t say much) to try the walk up the back of Drum Castle which Doug has told me about repeatedly.

So we did. A lovely woodland walk. The ground was frozen underfoot where it lay exposed, and the ice crystals were slippery. I slowed my pace, as now that my foot has healed, I’ve no desire to re-injure anything. Where mouldering leaves lay thick, sheltered by the overhanging boughs of ancient trees, the ground was more squelchy than frozen, so absent-mindedly I picked up the pace until I inadvertently slipped.

Of course Dusty, steady on four legs, is never cautious. And so she found her way to the shore of a half-frozen pond and waited eagerly for me to throw a stick, forgetting the time a few years ago when a stick was thrown onto the sheet ice at the loch at Crathes, and the poor dog landed with a very unexpected and painful bump.

Well, not exactly forgetting. I don’t imagine she was aware the pond was frozen today. To her, it was a watery playground calling to her to jump. But this time, I was watching out for her.

Sometimes in life, when you’re expecting an invigorating swim, all you get is a bruised bum. 

It’s good to know that God is watching out for me. Though sometimes I leap before I listen.