It literally rained all day here: there was never a moment when it was not raining. That said, a dog's gotta walk and so does this restless sexagenarian, so I donned my foul-weather gear, clipped on Lucy's leash, and headed out into the, well, foul weather.
It was a soft rain, a steady mist, really, which did eventually drench us, but never unpleasantly so, and as we wandered over three miles, we had the wet gray streets, and later the muddy dog park, and finally the sparkling green trails all to ourselves. It was a remarkably pleasant walk.
I guess Alfred Wainwright was indeed right. There is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.
No comments:
Post a Comment