Up the road or down, sometimes further afield, often not for long, we're out most days.
My husband (who is still in England) sent me pictures of our house and garden -- buried under the proverbial "blanket" of snow. Apparently it fell, so quietly, during the night.The weather differences accentuate the physical distance . . . as we are in shorts here in Texas, and I sunburned my neck on a long walk this morning! You would like walking around here, I think.It has a very specific smell, that I remember so strongly from my childhood.
With climate change, we will probably want a word of our own. Snaffle comes to mind. From which you might say: the fields are snaffled. There is snaffling in the garden. Molly came in her coat snaffled.
Thanks, Bee, for visiting from so far away, and Plutarch for the chuckle!
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