Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud

I thought you might like a little catch-up on me and Freya. Matthew doesn't walk with us much now that he's back at school because, well, school's tiring, right? Right. So I let him off unless it's the weekend. Since our last post, we haven't actually been anywhere different – we're simply loving the river right now, and that's just fine. When you've got this stretch of green at the end of your street and you're perhaps just a little too busy with work and Schitt$ Creek to go too far afield, this lovely green spot does very nicely. And Freya loves long grass ... I'll check for ticks, don't worry.

Young Miss charges off as soon as she's released, bounding through the grass in great big circles around me, never quite going out of sight. She's calming down a little and starting to realise she's supposed to stay with me, which is great because chasing after her brandishing chopped ham and chunks of cheese was getting a bit tedious. Good for my fitness, probably, but still annoying. You're never quite sure if you're going to lose your dog when they're a runner and don't come back when you call! Just round this corner, we did encounter a lovely dog who looked like a miniature dalmatian – don't know what he was, and forgot to ask his human because I fell over. You'll recall that I said I never fall over, and that the one time I went ice skating, I didn't fall even once. So I'm not entirely sure how I fell this time, but I found myself in a sort of slow-motion slide and then I was on my bum on the grass. The mini dalmatian's human laughed at me, which was fair because I'm sure I looked ridiculous.

We've been coming down to the river as near to high tide as possible so that Freya can have a paddle, but we missed it by miles this morning, so she went down for a wade through the mud. She stays up on the bank with me while the tennis ball and I still have her attention, but then she realises – right at the point I captured below – that she's out in the open and has some freedom, and then she goes exploring.

There she is, being curious and intrepid. What a fantastic noise that mud made as she splatted through it, completely undaunted at her slow progress, not bothered at all by the stinky green algae film on the top layer. Mmmmm, nice.  

Stinky mud legs. Could be worse, of course – this mud only smells of the sea, not fox poo. 

Isn't it a lovely spot, our little bit of river? Mostly. It's a bit litter-y sometimes, and last week, someone had lit a fire and left it, which wasn't cool. But mostly it's lovely. Sometimes we wave to people walking on the opposite bank, and very occasionally they wave back. I say 'we' – Freya doesn't wave. Pretty sure dogs can't see that far ... or wave.

This tree is a perfect place to sit and be a bit zen. Freya hasn't worked out how to get up on it yet – I think she'll suss it eventually because she's very clever, but there are a lot of interesting smells around here that demand her attention more, like ash, and also a nest of bees in that log on the right.

There she goes, my girl. Trotting a little way down the path, then back again because we're mates and we stick together. She did venture up one of the paths back to the cycle track just after this, but I asked her to come back, and she did. Good lass! I'm proud.

So that's where we've been every day for the past few weeks. I am keen to visit some of the old spots from last year, but Freya can't have freedom in most of those places yet. We'll probably venture further afield soon.

Until then, may the mud reach your knees and not be stinky.

Linda + Freya