Sunday, September 25, 2022

The private beach.


Sunday morning. There isn't even a moments hesitation over which way we're going to go. Sophie heads out of the gate and inland to the potato farm and the village doocot. There are brief detours into the fields in search of tantalizing scents.  At the potato barn two Jack Russells come out to see who's passing. They immediately start barking. Sophie looks at them with all the hauteur  a ten year old grande dame can summon. This doesn't deter the Jack Russells who maintain their loud 'What do you think you're doing ?' alert.

The two noisy hooligans are ignored. They don't even warrant a friendly sniff. Sophie turns right and follows the farm track down to the sea. We've found a small sandy beach hidden among the rocks on the foreshore. It's barely twenty yards long but is sheltered from all but the north easterly winds. Our own private Caribbean. This is a spot where Sophie can sit on the grass and watch the sea without running the risk of getting her paws wet. Sophie finds the sea ( and the seals ) intriguing but her DNA tells her she's a landlubber and should resolutely avoid any contact with water.


On our way home we meet an uncommunicative man who grunts in reply to our 'good morning', two builders who are here to start putting the slates on the roof of the doocot ( they are 'volunteers' which explains why they're working on a Sunday ) and a newly retired doctor who lives in a house near the village hall. His grandchildren are visiting so he's decided to go on a long sanity restoring walk. He joins us on the path that leads back towards home but cuts away by the old pillbox  to see the herons on the salt lake. The doctor plans to stay out for an hour by which time the little ones should be dressed and have had their breakfast. He has a well behaved Spaniel that walks amiably alongside Sophie as if they're old friends. Sophie seems to have recognized that this is her home and that these are her neighbours.

The bales of hay in the water edge fields now waiting to be collected. The first of the fields were ploughed yesterday. Soon the landscape will turn from gold to freshly tilled brown. 


On our return we find someone has closed the farm gate on the path . Sophie makes it clear that I need to do something.


After that the family diva retires to her zen patch under the acer for a brief nap. So starts a bright Sunday morning with a fiercely independent and self evidently happy Polish Lowland Sheepdog lady.

10 comments:

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari OM
It is a brisk morning here by the Clyde, so I can only imagine it is something similar over yonder. In which case, that thick fur jacket will be coming into its own. I wonder how long it will take the Jackies to realise Sophie is a permanent fixture and quit the "who goes there!" demands... YAM xx

Coppa's girl said...

No watery coffee or curly croissant ends this morning?
How lucky Sophie is to have found her own personal beach. Will there be seals to share it?

WFT Nobby said...

Thank you for the evocative description of the morning walk with the happy PON. Although Gail predicts that the days when the private beach evokes the Caribbean could be few and far between these coming months...
The retired doctor surely knows how convenient it is to be able to say "I must take the dog for a walk" at strategic moments on family visits.

Diary of a Nobody said...

I enjoyed Sophie's morning walk , the little private beach sounds wonderful.

Lisa in Tokyo said...

I love Sophie's "zen patch" - she somehow makes it look comfortable. I also enjoyed the lovely story about the matted dog. I was guessing what the "after" appearance would be but didn't expect that!

Angus said...

Lisa Tokyo - I'd thought,pre-cut, the dog might have been a PON

Travel said...

Thanks for taking us along on the walk, wish we were there

Jake of Florida said...

Enjoyed your walk this morning. But right now our Caribbean to the south is fighting with Tropical Storm Ian who is expected to become a powerful hurricane later and hasn't yet decided how much of Florida it wants to devastate. My Jake, gone these 13 years, was known as Jake the Weatherdog because of his living through Wilma, Charlie, and many threats. Joey has yet to experience one. And its always angstful until the path is known. So your farm path snd private beach are calming.

Melinda from Ontario said...

Sophie is so delightfully relaxed about dogs who cross her path. My Dukey channels "Cujo" if another dog so much as gives him the side-eye. It can make a leisurely dog walk most unnerving.

Susan said...

Sophie's love of napping on those rocks amazes me...

It was such a lovely Sunday walk. Thank you for taking us along.