Slippy this morning, and Herbie refused to walk down the hill. Last night's rain had frozen in the night, and though the ice-flowers on my car were pretty, it was treacherous underfoot. We scuttled back home and had an extra helping of breakfast.
The arboretum has now shut for the winter (presumably to let the grass grow back), so Herbie's going to have to get used to walks up and down the hill close to home. Right now he's curled up on the red dog bed, while the stove pumps out heat, and Neil Oliver talks about Scottish history on TV. Holly has turned a dog bed and a duvet into an intricate nest. We are settled in for the night.