Walking on the wild side tonight

A solitary drop hangs trembling on the edge of my hat. It quivers violently as a gust of icy air howls around the hill hitting us hard from the right. I briefly see the reflection of my eye in the droplet as it flies off. I blink, my eyes watering, my cheeks burning in the cold air, I pull my scarf tightly around my neck and chin.

I turn, not by swivelling my neck but twisting my whole body to the left. If I was just to turn my head, it would disappear into my hood. Skipping alongside me is Youngest. His coat slick wet, his fringe, peeping out below his hat is plastered to his forehead. He looks up, cheeky-grinned and shining-eyed. His face is happy but cold - I give him my scarf. He protests - but only a little as I wind around his head my beloved scarf. I can see his eyes beaming back at me. I hear a muffled thank you.

Ahead two figures bent forward, deep in conversation, battling the buffeting wind. More droplets falls off my hat into my eyes, I hunch my shoulders and pull my hat down hard hoping to reduce the raw surface area my cheeks provide.

Himself and Eldest reach the gate before we do and wait for us, I see that Eldest is wearing Himself's fleece hat and Himself has a head of dark wet curls. Each one glistening with sparkly mist droplets. He grins. Through the wet air and my wet eyelashes I see that grin and feel it's warmth.

The dog runs after the wind, chasing, chasing the scents carried along it's bitter trail. She is happy - her fur fluffed up in damp ridges and her tail held high. I whistle to call her back, the shrill piercing trill is ripped from my lips and fades across the hill. Somehow the dog hears and turns back instantly at a gallop - her face happy, her muzzle wide open with lolling tongue. A smell catches her and she stops hard to investigate. Then, dutifully as only a dog can be, continues back to her pack - us.

As we stride through the wet field the sun sinks below the heavily weighted clouds  leaving a blood orange slash along the horizon - warning us of the impending darkness. We speed up. 

A slight change in direction brings relief as the wind now behind, pushes rather than cuts through our bodies. We start the descent, that on a dry day would be glorious - but this evening we slip and slide our way down. 

The boys - run, slide, laugh and challenge each other to do more, to slide more, to run more. The dog lopes along as if the wind is biting her tail. Her nose to the ground, her paws more secure that our feeble human feet - she is enjoying every wild moment.

Below, the twinkling lights of the town beckon to us, inviting us back down out of the increasingly dark and wet evening. We accept, reluctantly, because, despite the conditions, despite the bitingly cold air, despite the encroaching night - we have been out walking and we have thoroughly enjoyed it.

Time to go home.