Garden Birds

Spent an hour this weekend completing the Big Garden Birdwatch.  I do it every year and usually manage to tick most of the boxes.  Except I'm never sure about dunnocks and we hardly ever see a starling now. 

This year was unusual in that we have no long-tailed tits as yet.  Most years a whole gang of them arrive together and set about pecking the lichen on my old quince tree.  Maybe the colder weather has held them back this year.

As well as our usual tally of blue tits, bullfinch, goldfinch, magpies, robins and doves, the woodpecker and jay put in a timely appearance.  Sadly our visiting pheasant arrived to late to be counted!

One

atop three,

one under,

arrangement of pigeons

in a birch tree,

waiting out the falling snow

Two more,

next door,

new

seen only when

I shift my

view.

Three now,

four under

re-huddle, re-shuffle

re-rack

two who had flown

are now come back.

Another Treasure

Another of the very early daffs flowering in my tiny greenhouse at the moment.  This one is called romieuxii and is a beautiful pale lemon colour.  Like cantabricus it is a native of Morocco.

Today's poem comes from an activity in which we were given a long list of wierd titles and asked to write to a few of them.  The one I chose first was 'What the Cow Thought About the Rain'.  My inspiration was the old country belief that cows sit down when rain is on the way.

There’s a smell in the air,

a change in the light.

A promise of rain

that just might

fall.

I’ll first choose my spot,

safe under that tree.

Then race there,

who wins?

Me.

Ruminating, while sitting

on my warm dry grass.

Waiting among daisies

for the shower to

pass.

Some I Made Earlier

Sticking with the loo roll theme from yesterday I've collected together a few of my tiny containers.  One is still plain calico, waiting to be embroidered.  Others are gesso and zapped 'xpandy paste'.

Our snow is slowly melting, it's reached that in between state where the magic has gone, but the muckyness has not yet arrived. 

Watching a Jay moving around my garden, this morning, I found myself versifying.  Not for an OU assignment, just for my own amusement.  I clearly have too much time on my hands!

Hopping, not stopping, chasing a worm.

Gliding, not hiding, above the snow.

Standing, after landing, in the bare leafed bush

Not whistling, but listening in the morning’s glow.

Snow Time

Woke up this morning with an idea for my next embroidery project.  Having all this snow on the ground seemed like an excellent excuse to make a start right away.  I'd been feeling a little guilty about not spending much time on my stitching.

I've raided all my fabric and thread stashes and put together a spring palette, which I hope to make into a small installation using ideas developed in my West Dean course with Michael Brennand-Wood.

On a 'craft' note, another one of my A215 poetry gems.  We were asked to write about an ordinary household object - for reasons having to do with size I chose a loo roll!

Cylinder of card,

open-ended,

versatile now disrobed

My son will

have you

Santa,

red crepe wrapped.

My daughter,

an angel,

doily clothed.

Myself,

more practical,

a starter home

For

beans,

both broad and runner,

or

Peas

Sweet.

Hidden Treasure

One of the bulbs flowering in my tiny greenhouse at the moment is a very early, very lovely, daffodil called cantabricus.

Whilst whizzing through the poetry section for A215 I came across one or two activities that I thought I might enjoy.  This little verse arrived when we were asked to write in 'another voice'.  The voice is of the blossom on my Prunus autumnalis, subjected to the very low temperatures we've had overnight this week.

So cold, last night.

Stars fearsome bright,

clear points of light.

Frost creeping over us, hurts

stiffening pink frilly skirts