It's going to be a hot one. The air already heavy and humid as Angus sets off with Sophie down the old ox track to the stream. There have been wild boar about in the night. The soil scuffed and rutted. Sophie stops to sniff their scent and savour something they've left behind. She fishes, inelegantly, for minnows by the waterfall. Every so often she lunges into the water, generating a bow wave, getting herself wet and leaving the minnows unperturbed. She shrieks, presumably with happiness but possibly in frustration, or a combination of the two, then repeats the process. Refraction like perspective a concept that takes some getting used to.
On the way home Sophie positively bounds up the hill that leads to The Rickety Old Farmhouse's kitchen door. Every so often she stops, looks back and waits for her owner to catch up. She exhibits studied impatience.
At the top of the hill, before heading indoors, Angus sits and takes in the view.
Sophie is keen to get home and have breakfast. Her brother who has been for a power walk round the lake joins her.
This poem is very beautiful :