We still wrap up even though the weather is definitely milder. Moss already has her collar and lead on and is bursting with anticipation. Pockets are filled with dog-poo bags, latex gloves and tissues and the final thing before we set off - trigger the strava walking app.
We leave the house via the back door, turn left down our gable end, turn right on to the street, then right again up the cobbled track behind the houses. In years gone by, these cobbles were the base for the tram lines which connected our village to our local 'big' town. Unfortunately all that remain are the stones while the rails have probably rusted away at the bottom of the North Sea.
We follow the old tram lines as they pass the allotments and old garages, do the CV19 two (metre) step as we come up to a fellow dog walker. We nod and grin and share a grimace and walk on.
Moss knows this route, knows the secret path between the high hedges, she forges on ahead and waits for us at the little gate at the end. We don our gloves to open all gates - being careful is being wise.
Peering over the top ; checking for stock in the field. We spot Bob, the resident native breed pony, he is too busy grazing to even look up as we walk by. The field drops down to the stream with a narrow footbridge. We cross over and then up and over the stile. Moss stands waiting at the dog gate and shoots through as soon as she can.
We walk back up a short sharp hill side where the 'fairy trees' with their exposed roots and secret nooks and crannies grow. At the top we turned right, down along the track, keeping our eyes open for lambs.
And we are not disappointed.
The track goes up hill and quietly turns into a grassy hill, the crows swirl and twirl in the air playing on the breeze.
We keep on upwards until the field's edge, turn left and start our return following the small stream which Moss finds great fun.
The field is long one, we call it the 'Long Lamb Field' (although lamb free at the moment, it is a bit exposed for the little ones until they are a bit more robust).
The next field has ewes fat and biding their time, Moss is kept close on her lead as we quietly walk through and exit on to a tree lined lane, a favourite one of ours and arrive at the 'rec'. Dog walkers are dotted around the grounds keeping themselves safe but yelling cheerful greetings and conversations with each other. You can tell who are not regular walkers or are not from the village - they avoid eye contact and actively ignore your 'we-are-in-this-together' hellos. Their loss.
Moss runs around in huge happy circles, her happiness is infectious.
Time to return, so we call in a grinning dog, slip her lead on and walk down the road back into the village - we have done our government advised one hour's exercise - but it was so much more than an hour's walk. It was fresh air, it was blue skies and scudding clouds, it was lambs and lapwings, curlews and crows playing on the breeze. It was long distant views and lovely.
It was just lovely.
