The muddy slide

It has been raining here for the last two days straight. And the temps have been in the mid-60s. All this gray weather reminds me of the Pacific Northwest I left nine years ago. I've even had to pull out my sweaters and set aside my bathing suit and sandals.

But yesterday I did not let the rain stop me from walking the doggies. On our way back, I foolishly walked straight up the steep path that just the day before had been dirt. Yeah, you can see where this is going. I got up close to the top and the doggies stopped to sniff something, so I stopped. And then the ground rebelled and my feet started to slide back down the hill. I tried to quicken my pace, seeing that Bear's paw were slipping too, but to no avail. And as if it were a slow-motion reel, I let out a yelp as I went down on all fours and continued to slide down the muddy red clay path. After a few feet, I came to a stop. Not hurt physically, all I could do was laugh. A few failed attempts to right myself mid-path, I then crawled off to the little bit of grassiness under a pine tree before I was able to stand up and assess the mud damage.

New white and red Adidas running shoes? Covered deep into the laces.

Black yoga pants? Covered from the knees down.

Dog leash? Completely covered, but at least I never let go of my precious babies.

Hands? Mud piled on so thick you'd think I was about to give myself a mud bath.

Military.com fleece cover-up that kept me warm during the walk? Untouched.

Getting in touch with nature? Priceless.