rainy days

The kids and I have been enjoying our rain walks of late. It doesn't matter if its bucketing down. My little ducklings and I will wander to see what can be found. 

I am trying to teach them to never begrudge the weather, no matter what its doing. Seldom is it the same for long enough that we get bored.

My Grandad Dave always said there was no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.

He and Grandma (and my Great Granny Willis on several occasions) would take me tramping through the limestone clad bush of Charming Creek near Blackball, and thru Nelson Creek and the old Chinese gold mines near Westport on the West Coast. 

We walked on when it was "persisting down" and when it was as cold as a knife.

We would play a game of 'DONKEY' along the way, trying not to trip for the 6th time and reach the Y thus becoming the dreaded DONKEY. 

I remember the warmth of damp wool and the wet but always smiling faces, raindrops blowing in under the peaks of the hoods on our jackets. 

I still have my old wet weather gear. Until recently I could still smell my old dog on the sleeves of my raincoat. She died 20 years ago. That's what the senses do for the memories. And visa versa.

I recently bought new gumboots that come up high enough to almost meet the bottom of my raincoat, so I dont have to wear wet weather pants if its really hosing down. They are 'Hunters'. Scottish. Like my late Grandad.