it’s spring when the world is puddle-wonderful— E. E. cummings
I have no ‘wellies’ now that there is no one to help pull them off, to tug against that powerful suction between rubber and sock and where the equal and opposite forces have both puller and pulled tumbling and laughing with the effort. Walking boots can only venture so far into the puddles, and even puddles can be deeper than the saying.
After all the rain that we have these winters, our lanes are a jigsaw of potholed pools. I pick out a path through and skip and jump, stretching the stride when needed. But then children come along, stomping and splashing in the muddy waters, and I recall that joyous abandon when parental rules of clean and dry are suspended for a while.
Coming home again with sodden feet, I think some wellington boots might be the best option after all, and an investment in one of those boot pullers too. It does when the boot puller is gone.
I took this photo because I love how flocks of small birds re-foliage the winter trees, but it is also fitting for another Which Way Photo Challenge