Walk with me
It's a magical place, the countryside. A brown rock may suddenly rise up into the air with a loud fluttering sound and turn into a brightly coloured pheasant. Solid land may turn into a sucking green bog. Grey rabbits appear and disappear with a flash of a cottony-white tail.
I like to watch my breath change in the cold, misting into a cloud in front of my lips. I'd like to be able to blow rings, but it never works. Perhaps one day, someone will teach me.
MDH strides on in front of me with head in the air, the better to sniff the fresh air with. He is in his element here. I am more cautious, treading gingerly behind. I've been used to walking on level concrete; it's difficult to walk on the uneven ground. It's hard work on the ankles, having to negotiate the bumps and dips of rural turf.
We walk for hours, until the blue sky turns a deep gold and each tree is filled with singing birds returning to roost. Then, we know that we should hurry home, before the night comes. As usual, we have forgotten to bring a torchlight, and so we must hurry, for there are no street lamps here.
MDH holds my hand and pulls me along, because I'm getting weary. It's nice to hold a warm hand in this cold weather.