Walking Ghyll, 3 June

As I’m putting on Ghyll’s lead by the door, I hear rolling thunder. I used to hear thunder a lot, but for whatever reason we don’t get much thunder or lightning in the UK. I put on my waterproof trousers: I got them for the Fellsman but then wound up not needing them.Ghyll balks in the rain at the end of the drive, but by the time we reach the field, a gap in the clouds blows over us and we’re granted a brief spell of sun. The grass is wet and the baked ground has developed a thin slick film of clay. Puddles gather here and there. Everything’s fragrant: I sneeze.