Over the h-edge

Well, we have started the hedge – planted the bushes and a few of the cuttings that I pilfered on my walk in the countryside. Hopefully now we wait and watch to see if they will take root. Never been so into the garden before, I even have a pot of homemade compost and a jam jar of bone meal ready for some more endeavours. A few avian visitors looking for newly exposed worms (there were quite a few) were subjected to merry greetings from myself… I must be going plant potty!

planted

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Lone watcher

Softest grey

feathers nestle in the grass.

The tree is silent…

For the Senses

Today
birds,
butterflies,
nature
return –
appreciative mindfulness.

Offering

I stand by the open French windows while Darby sits on the fence viewing me quizzically with one eye. Suddenly with a whirr of wings, he lands in front of my feet and advances until he is six inches from my toes. Trying not to startle him, I grab a crust from the kitchen and return to the door. The pigeon has flown back up to his perch on the post. As I crumble and toss a few specks of bread on the patio, he cranes his head around to watch.
I go out and sit on the bench and wait. Not for long. He soon swoops down to join me and nonchalantly he picks up the crumbs. With baited breath I hold my hand low to the ground, offering him more. He carries on finding invisible food but keeps looking back and forward at my hand. I talk to him and make clicking noises with my tongue and all the time he is zig-zagging ever closer until, finally, he aims a peck at the food that I hold. He doesn’t grab it properly and I drop it in surprise. Quickly he picks it up and moves away. I offer another piece, he comes back and this time manages to aim a gentle but swift beak towards the bread. Connection!

Post lunch nap

Pigeon
Dozing replete.
Darby or Joan?
Darby. Just like my
Dad!

Here

In this quiet place
I hear the wind howl
and the birds cry out
in their alien tongue
to any
who might care
to listen.
I listen
and savour
this moment.

Mr Magpie

As I turn into Marlborough Road, a magpie swoops across the road in front of me. Automatically I greet it, “Good evening Mr Magpie, how are you and yours today?” while I search around for its mate.
I’m not superstitious, it’s just an instinctive thing – like the way I made sure that I squeezed between the other side of the ladder and the fence all weekend…

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