It's a pretty puddle.
We had a lot of those around the Lovestead yesterday.
In fact, I pulled out the Kabota again after chores and brought a few more loads of gravel to the barn and pasture area.
In the darkness of the morning while leading horses to the pasture gate, we all discovered deep water around the area at the gate where I'd already dropped some gravel a few weeks ago.
Heather danced around the lake and went through the gate at a weird angle.
Horses don't like walking through wet slop any more than we humans do.
So, I filled another segment of low-lying ground, and nobody, including me, seemed to mind the trip to the pasture this morning.
As I type, heavy flakes of snow are falling and sticking to the ground. If the predicted low temperatures come, we could have a white blanket hiding most of the lakes for the next several days.
And, when the lows go into the teens and single digits next week, Annie might be out there with a broom, sweeping off this land of many lakes and trying some ice skating.
Yesterday gave us a few sun breaks from the gloom and drizzle we've experienced of late.
It was time for my inaugural walk with the dogs to the Meserve's pasture next door. I had called Stan and Geneva the day before, and they gave me the go-ahead.
I told them how much those walks with active dogs are appreciated because of too many temptations across the fence on the south side of our woods.
In the morning, before our walk in Meserve's now cow-less big pasture, I received a telephone call.
It was Alicia from next door where the Yaks live. They have a farm bordering us on the north and Selle Road on the south.
I hadn't heard nor seen Alicia since last spring and had wondered at times if she, Wes and their two boys were still over there. Since the Yaks were still around, I figured they must not have moved.
Alicia called to tell me that one of our dogs had come to visit their dog Duke.
"Does it have a red collar?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
I didn't have to think long to know that Brooke of Willie and Debbie's Brooke and Todd had found a new adventure.
Brooke is the rebel among the Border Collie nation, and she knows no bounds when something in her Border Collie brain tells her to go where no Lovestead Border Collie has gone before.
Well, she and Todd did go that way when they were little tiny puppies, and I about had a heart attack while carrying Kea and joining the search party.
Nearly an hour later, while walking through the land belonging to the neighbors to the west, iddy biddy Brooke and Todd came running our way. It was a welcome sight, to say the least.
From that time on, until just a few months ago, Brooke and Todd usually had leashes when they came this way.
I thought we had finally reached the stage where Brooke would stay on the Lovestead. Apparently not.
After hanging up from Alicia's call, I went outside, yelling at the top of my lungs for Brooke.
Forget that: Brooke was having too much fun getting acquainted with Duke and his family.
Alicia said she IS a nice dog, which we agree. She is, but she's also a rebel who often drives us crazy.
Later, while walking through Meserve's field and dodging pretty fresh cowpies, I marveled at just how fast those dogs can run when they have a wide open field.
They jumped in the creek. They jumped in the pond. They raced in circles. The whole time Kiwi worked her heart out herding Brooke.
Apparently, Kiwi, who is very intelligent, feels the need to keep a close eye on Brooke.
It was a great first walk for me and full-fledged series of runs for the doggies.
I thank the Meserves from the bottom of my heart for allowing us to enjoy their wonderful big space. And, I look forward to many more adventures with the BC nation during the winter.
As a postscript, I posted the photo above specifically to help me reflect briefly on the memories of one of my students whose obituary appears in this morning's local paper.
I had read on Facebook recently that Robby Hubbard died but had never seen anything official until this morning.
My memories of Robby take me back to a huge first-period honors English class, so huge, in fact, that three sophomore boys had to sit in the aisle next to the window.
Robby was one of those as were Andy Raiha and James Duell.
Robby occasionally tested his limits in that class but never really seriously.
My memories then must take me to my parents' back step on December 21, 1984, the day after our house on Great Northern Road burned down.
A car came rolling into the driveway. A young man with blond, curly hair stepped from the car bearing a plate of fresh-baked cookies and came walking toward me.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Love," Robby Hubbard said to me.
According to the obituary, Robby died from a lifelong bipolar disorder. I was glad to see that, in spite of his continuous challenges, he used his phenomenal intellectual talents and enjoyed many impressive successes as a chemist.
In my heart, he will live forever as that thoughtful young man with his plate of cookies.