7am by the river at Thames Valley Park. Yesterday’s rain washed away almost all of the snow. All that’s left are the skeletal remains of the many snowmen all competing to be the last ice man standing (albeit in their somewhat sad decomposing forms).
Benson is in his element chasing various flocks of geese back into the water from their resting place. It’s fairly mucky by the river bank and I’m being stalked by a pair of ducks.
I came here this morning to give Benson a break from Langley Mead. He had a dramatic fall from the boardwalk into the stinkiest mud puddle yesterday. All my fault I might add. Today he smells apple fresh. I’m sure that won’t last long. The ducks have given up. Probably figured out I don’t have bread after all.
