When all this is Over

When all this is over

I’ll sit in the sun like the grey cat

and eat toast, dripping with butter

from that white china plate with a

deep pink print of cherry trees and water and two friends

(if I don’t drop it between now and then)

I’ll watch the fish flash through the fountain

as if they were swimming upstream

and I’ll ask you to visit

and see all you left behind.

WiaO

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Wonderful in the Garden

bird2Something wonderful is happening in my garden. Last afternoon, while admiring and experimenting with various sprinklers attached to a lately delivered solar pump for my sink-sized pond, I heard an unusual birdsong, rich and melodious. The bird, mid-brown, was silhouetted on top of my summer house. I was unable to see detail. It flitted in the cherry tree and left. Smaller than a blackbird, bigger than a sparrow. But I had never seen a sparrow in my garden. It returned, was it the same bird? And could it be a dunnock? Neither had I seen a dunnock in the garden.

     Today, I am overjoyed to see two sparrows taking moss from the gardenmay 034 (I have loads) and up to the fir tree to the right of my door. They must be building a nest; goody.

     Now a young, and this is the sweet voice I heard yesterday, thrush, perches right outside the conservatory on the cheap metal archway I put up last summer which bears a red clematis on the right and raspberries on the left. Wonderful, neither have I ever seen a thrush in my garden.

may 032

     Low and behold, a single and magnificent crimson-breasted bull finch on top of the trellis, swoops down and drinks from the bird bath.

lbird     Agapanthus, a mother’s day gift years ago, has grown eleven blue blooms from none, and hosts two many spotted ladybirds which have been there for three days so far and I’ve seen a fat honey bee and a svelte honey bee with pollen-laden legs.bbee

     Creatures I have not yet seen this year are; red and turquoise damsel flies, the huge black and yellow striped dragon fly, the frogs; and I know the family of hedgehogs wandered next door and drowned last year.

     The pair of dunnocks are bold and busy, under the table, top of the trellis pecking and picking, on the fence, eyeing the olive tree (watch out, my neighbour snatches nests before the eggs hatch, she’s a little short of grey cells).

     Earlier, I watched the blackbird on the lawn as he listened for worms, stabbed and gotmay 027 one. Last year a fledgling fell close to the pond, mum and dad never left it for a second, making squawking, encouraging, here-we-are-sounds for two days. I kept the cat indoors. Two blackbirds have always nested in the fir tree. He sat on the roof of my summer house last evening and sang beautifully. His babies, still in their nest, sang back baby songs.

     The dunnock goes where no bird dared to go – to the hanging fairy-on-a-leaf, filled with porridge oats. Their character is quite unique, so too the blackbird, thrush and bullfinch.

shore May 021