One of the most appealing things about winter, as far as The Dog is concerned anyway, is that, as the leaves fall off the bushes in the hedges and the grasses and other vegetation on the verges die back, all sorts of pieces of the hedge that we have walked past, without giving them a second glance previously, reveal themselves in all their naked glory. Parts of our walk, that I am used to pacing on past with reasonably steady progress, suddenly need detailed examination.
I have to confess, unobservant, decrepit, old human that I am, I would most probably just walk past many of the earth-shaking discoveries we seem to have been making these last few days. To be honest, I’m not all that sure exactly what they are but they have been important enough to interrupt our advance and when freezing feet insist that I should take a firmer stance, it is only with great reluctance that she will move on to the next newly unwrapped gift from the season of good will.
Take this hole in the hedge, for instance, it has obviously been known to every fox, rabbit stoat and weasel in the entire neighbourhood for the whole year, but it has only now come to our attention.
Isn’t it just amazing?