Sunday is Mud Day

Out the door and down the street, past the towering compost piles and straight on back into the woods. Keep going. Take a left when you get to the spot where there used to be a fork in a log in the road until my nephew removed it like Arthur two summers ago. Through the woods, up the hill, down across the fields, to the trail in the woods along the river. Splish, splash. Splish, splish, splish, jingle, jingle. Panny circles like a satellite. It's not hard to be the center of a dog's universe. He frolics. I trudge. Splish, splash.