Writing about the tea we bought in London last year reminded me of our early morning walk on Hampstead Heath (a 791 acre park) with Sue and her pugs, Bosco and Betty.
by Rosanne Freed
Grassy hills damp with early morning mist,
my pashmina wrapped chador-style against the chill
I draw deep breaths of silence
while I follow the little ones, Bosco and Betty, along
paths formed over the centuries, by feet
like mine. We walk a long way
pause only to play, or munch on carrot treats.
Below Parliament Hill, London stirs
slowly, sky yellow, slivers of pink.
On the Heath many dogs, joggers, and
unbelievably, some women swimming in the icy Ladies pond.
Birds call from distant trees,
everything’s green, even the parrots.
On this rain-free Sunday morning Kenwood House tea-room
is busy, us doggie folks fill up the outside tables.
A good cup of strong English tea, plus scones and jam for us,
some pets gobbled pieces of cake,
no more snacks for Betty and Bosco tired-out on Mum’s lap.
A quiet hum of chattering birds and people.
A loud urgent bark like a “Huh?” breaks the peace.
Every dog stands up to answer
a cacophony of barking
a confusion of noise
rolls like thunder over our heads.
Laughing, hands on my ears, I look around –
no one else seems bothered by the pandemonium around us…
C.S Lewis wrote “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”
after a walk on the heath one snowy day
the mud’s still on my shoes.
©Rosanne Freed 2010