Today almost all the birds are sheltering from the strong north-easterly winds. At noon, when the sun shone in intermissions between snow flurries and the temperature rose to freezing point, a solitary pigeon positioned itself on the fence and a few seagulls soared above the playing fields. Blackbirds, sparrows and wrens were hidden. The only movement, fleetingly mistaken, was from fallen leaves. The garden birds may not have noticed the newly-filled feeder, or the strong winds hinder flight. The only one who came earlier to feed, but not to drink was a small brown and green bird dipping in and out of the hedge. It could have been either a marsh tit, or possibly a migratory goldcrest.
We are not going out if we can avoid it and are grateful for central heating, cups of tea and double glazing. Through the back patio windows we watch the daylight hours pass. If I were a painter or photographer I would take the sun from its rising through the birch trees to its setting in the west with the full moon glimpsed through the branches. I would make a print from the tracks of the blackbird in the snow, a figure of eight loop delicate as decoration on fine cloth or china. Being deficient in these crafts, I vow to add knitting to contemplation and fill my basket with useful squares.
No comments:
Post a Comment