This morning the sun shone, and we rounded up the dogs for a walk around White Ness. It's actually called the White Lough, but Emi always refers to it as White Ness in the hope that one day it'll have its very own resident monster - just like Lough Ness in Scotland. Hope springs eternal when you're ten years old.
They've had severe flooding over here in the past few weeks. And all the days of heavy, unrelenting rain have swollen the lake beyond its normal borders. The path that we follow was full of long deep puddles with flotsam and jetsam washed from the lake into the hedgerows.
Emi was worried that the Wonder Dog would get messed up. The Wonder Dog is usually a bit precious about getting his paws dirty, so he was lifted and carried safely through the mire. Grandma's dog, on the other hand, has consumed way too many dog biscuits and it takes a couple of us to lift her into the jeep when it's time to go home. Luckily she doesn't mind having muddy paws ... .
Half-way around the lake an old, deserted homestead stands on the brow of the hill. It must have been a cheerful place to live in days gone-by, with its views out over the rolling green hills and down to the lake. There's a little barn to one side of the cottage, where they'd have kept a few sheep, a milk-cow and some chooks. These days it's looking a bit mossy and abandoned, but once upon a time, I'm sure that it was a happy home.
How do you like our fungal yule log? It had been washed across the path by the flood waters and sat heavy and water-logged in our way. The fungus seemed to be rather happy with its sodden habitat.
All the best for the holidays,