Gloves are now a key part of the outdoor pocket patting repertoire, alongside checking for penknife and baler twine. My pockets are getting more like those of a small boy every day: grubby hanky, acorns and rosehips, useful bit of string, chunk of wood, bent nails, dusty handful of ewe nuts.The gloves are to stop my fingers sticking to the metal field gates and suffering freezer burn. I have to huhh on the gate latches like some heavy breather to melt the ice so that I can open the gate. I'd rather walk through than go over at the moment as it's rather treacherous climbing over the gates as the bars are so slippery with frost, but I do it when I have to and hope I won't find myself dazed on the hard ground with the sheep looking down at me still waiting for their hay.
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It sure was treacherous this morning. I went to fetch the sheep home from the River Meadows and couldn't stay upright on the lanes - a sheet of black ice. They, the sheep, did much better with four legs!
For me the can't-be-without in this weather is the grubby, soggy hanky; I was born without nose washers...
Off topic - I have a new word for you - "absquatulate" - which means "to leave in a hurry"
I love the verb 'to huhh'.
Paula - hope you didn't bruise anything!
WW - that's a first! I will do my damnedest to slip it into a conversation oh so nonchalantly!
M'ear - I wasn't sure how to spell it, but I hope you know what I mean!
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