AP and I took Pickles for a walk in the countryside this morning while the sun was out and the skies were clear. After we entered the woodland I heard a mother say to her little boy, “Look! There’s a puddle right there!” and the little boy, kitted out in his jacket and wellington boots, jumped in the puddle and made a big splash. The mother laughed and applauded.
It must have been heaven for this child to be allowed to jump freely in a big old mud puddle in the middle of a woodland path. I have since learned that this is called “puddling” in the UK and it’s a done thing. Who knew? I grew up in a city in the midwest and I don’t recall playing in water except when the drains overflowed after a big rain storm and then we just ran barefoot through the flooded streets.
So this is March. It came in like a lamb this morning but by mid-afternoon the sleet and rain were pelting our windows and it was time to fire up the wood stove and go to bed with a book. I’m reading Honey and Dust by Piers Moore Ede. And you?