Boggy field

When I had a pony living in the back field this was the bane of my life, mud.

My wellies squelching and sticking, sometimes losing a sock as I strode across the deep boggy terrain.

These days the sky-reflecting puddles signify winter is well on its way, I'm just glad I don't have fifty bales of hay and straw to carry over, no baling-twine-cut fingers or mud covered toes when the suction was too keen to relinquish my boot.

Brrrr... heating on now methinks!