With the advance of Autumn, the demarcation between pig and mud is becoming increasingly blurred.
Wet clay soil and tapering trotters are not empathetic. The latter are as impractical as stilettos on the lawn at a summer wedding!
As a result, Joan breaks into a comical high-kneed skip to traverse the quagmire, when she sees me coming with the midday slops.
Today she guzzled the remaining rosehip pulp from my syrup making. At least the vitamin C content should keep her joints well serviced!