Walking the Dogs

Not quite sure this bloke ought to have been in this field.  Where I was standing there was a post and rail fence in front of me with barbed wire across the top rail.  Still, it looked as though he was a regular visitor to the pasture and in all my years I'd never seen any livestock grazing there.  In fact, within a few weeks the grass would be waist high and I can't even remember it being harvested for hay.

I really wished I'd got out earlier, the mist and fog were providing lovely recession across the open countryside and the sun was just beginning to break through.  Perhaps tomorrow.