Elmo knew something today when he decided not to come for a walk. Up the hill all seemed well, gorse flowers bright in the sunshine and blue sky. The wind blew so hard our ears were flattened to our heads. Cold wind, cruel wind.
Then the world was bleached of colour and we shone in our orange glory. And stones rained down from the sky. We sheltered behind rocks until the wind blew the hail across the green fields. Then we walked back down the path to the warm house and fire. As we walked the sun again was warm, the sky again was blue, but the distant clouds held another curtain of hail.
And back in the house Elmo was curled warm on a cushion, a smug smile curled on his face.
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