Out on the mudflat, mulling over mudthings. The tide is about to turn. Hitch up your pants and head for the beach.
Laurie does that, too. We inevitably come home from a walk with half a dozen photos of mud or muddy sand. Mud and worm poop. Mud and grass roots. Mud and water. Mud and old turnips. Mud and logs. Mud and more mud. It gets a little monochromatic after a while. I never know what to do with them all.
After reading Susannah's comment ... it must be a boy thing ... traipsing through puddles and ditches of mud! D talks of his mud experiences ... wonderful, glorious mud ... slippery, slimy mud ... mud that won't wash out of those white socks ... mud that oozes through the toes once socks are abandoned.But for a mud picture ... that one's pretty interesting.
ooh, look at the marching mud men! rows and rows of them, slowly marching towards... land? or water? i guess they'd want to stay in that in between zone that makes them almost invisible.
Small, hairy mud monsters is what I saw too. I would take a picture of that, if I were lucky to see it! Why does it blob up like that? Or erode down, maybe, in that sort of pattern?
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