January 21, 2011:

It's seriously chilly here this morning. I've inched my desk closer to the fire so my hands warm up enough to type. I'm not complaining, though, because these frosty mornings have metamorphed into sunny, windless days...a far cry from the heavens throwing everything at us last weekend. I mean, that was RAIN. Our stream turned into a rapid, our ponds gushed water, and our main training field could have been used for white water rafting. I was cursing the holes in my wellies. The holes are just above my ankles (caused by a design fault!). I marvelled at my stupidity when I was out in the field with Jamie and I suddenly noticed a bump in the ground - a bump where there is normally no bump. I went over to explore and thought I'd stand on the bump...and promptly sank...to, you guessed it, above my ankles. Yep, water poured in and I cursed further at my asininity. There, that will have you all searching for a definition.

Luckily for us, the weather has been absolutely glorious this week. Every day has been filled with sunshine, warm-ish temperatures, and oodles of outdoor fun. I've managed to get some runs in, and yesterday I braved taking 12 dogs for a 4-mile walk in the forest. We started the walk with a half mile trot along the road to a trail into the forest. This was a little ambitious as the younger dogs have not been out on the road before, never been out the front gate on foot, so I wasn't sure how things were going to go. What little angels they were! No need to worry. They all walked beside or behind me, no major breaks for freedom and, thankfully, no traffic. The only problem with walking 12 dogs alongside me on a narrow road is the jostling that goes on for positions immediately to my left or right. Keeper, Penny and Tahi all wanted to stand on my left foot, Sioux and Bee on my right foot, and Tina and Liam seemed to like to get right on my heels. I mean, how close do they have to be? I nearly came to grief a couple of times but it was cute to watch the jostling. Once we hit the wider foresty roads, the hour-long game of chase began. Little wonder it was quiet around the kennel for the rest of the day! Usually I hear one dog or another 'chirping' while I work a dog. Not yesterday.

The other day I went up the hill to take a good look at the sheep grazing the entire hill area of the farm. The instant I got to the top of the hill, a thick fog rolled in. Just my luck. I made a decision to let the dogs go in 3 different directions for the sheep and come what may. Jamie went left across the main part of the hill; Sioux went right and down to the lower part of the main hill; and Meg went behind me to see what she could find bordering the neighbour's farm. Then I waited and strained my eyes for any signs of movement. In the minutes of 'nothingness' - which felt like an eternity - I wondered whether I had made the right decision to send the dogs. I stood there thinking about a trial I had gone to watch at Deerplay in my first year in the UK. The trial was shrouded in thick fog and was eventually cancelled. I remember talking to Jim Cropper for the very first time and I muttered rather bravely (or stupidly) that dogs still have to be able to get their sheep in all weather conditions. Now I had to put my money where my mouth was, so to speak. Would my dogs find their sheep in the fog? Would they bring them back to my feet? And had I made the right decision to send my dogs in the first place? I waited. Then I became cognizant of the odd sheep or two bleating...and the bleating was getting closer. Through the fog I could detect movement, and then I spied little Sioux with her group of sheep just about to join Jamie's group. Good dogs. Minutes went by before I spied Meg bringing her sheep up the hill. RELIEF. They didn't get them all, but I take my hat off to them for effort. I counted 8 they missed. Of course, not long after the sheep had been grouped and inspected, the fog lifted! Murphy's Law.

I'm destined to get fit quickly now. Who needs a New Year's Resolution when the quad-bike blows its gearbox? No, I didn't blow it - thankfully. A new bike has magically appeared. I don't mean new as in NEW. I mean new as in 'it's not one I have seen before.' Oddly enough, it's a twin to the one that has blown its gearbox, only the "new" one has ABSOLUTELY no brakes. Not even a sniff of a brake. NO WAY will I risk getting on that bike. No, uh-uh, not on your nelly. I'll use my feet, thank you very much.

Right, time to get out training. Let the fun and games begin!