Clogs

 When we are just slipping out of the house briefly, down the path to collect the post or to the wood store for some more logs, we step out of our indoor clogs and into battered old gardening ones. We keep pairs beside all the exterior doors. The weather is poor and yesterday when we opened the kitchen door we found this bluetit taking a rest from the wind and rain inside an extremely scruffy clog belonging to Himself. We thought that it would fly away immediately but it stayed for sufficiently long for me to be concerned that it was damaged. The kitchen door has a canopy so it is a dry place to be and the little bird stayed there for quite a while as we moved past it in and out of the house. I was just starting to think that I should pick it up and check it over when it flew away.

I wore clogs as a child when playing in the garden and so did our daughters. We bought these little red ones while visiting friends in Denmark when our daughter was three. She is now forty-nine!

She loved them and staggered about in determined fashion for a while until she had mastered them, running and playing about outside. Her little sister then took them over and next in line is little sister's son.

We have had the soles replaced ready for action should he still be small enough to wear them once the virus is under control and we can enjoy family life again.

My gardening clogs by the front door, at the ready.