This has not been a good week/month/year so far what with thevery worrying health problems of two of our daughters, both in hospital at the same time (hopefully now both seem on the mend) - the unexpected deaths of two friends, and the illnesses and worries of credit-crunched chums. I had strong feelings of impending gloom as midnight struck on 31st December, and was much disquieted, as I can usually trust my instincts. Only now that our eldest daughter in particular, has emerged with an almost clean bill of health from an utterly miserable time having endless tests with potentially dire outcomes , can we her parents begin to think clearly again.
Meanwhile life goes on here in our little corner of Somerset – and how precious even the most mundane things seem now that our girls are happily back in their own homes once more. I can sit here at my desk, looking out over the landscape beyond, and revel in the small everyday occurences
A dear little robin, Christmas-card perfect, is perched on the freshly shooting honeysuckle tangled around the wire fence between my studio window and the paddock beyond. He has been watching me intently with his head cocked to one side. When I smile back at him I can almost see his eyes light up.
I have bird feeders hanging from the old, now winter-leafless apple tree in the studio garden – a paved and gravelled area along the lowest level of the garden, separated from the lawn by deeply sloping rockery beds and stone steps which are almost over-run with winter-withered erigeron . These provide endless distractions for us as we sit by the garden room window at mealtimes. A grey and blue pottery bell has a hook where the clapper would be, so that a fat ball can be hung from it. Rather over-enthusiastically I fixed two netted fatballs to this, and when both had just small nuggets of food left in them, we were greatly amused to see a starling balancing precariously on the edge of the bell, frantically pulling at the green netting till he successfully lifted it off its hook. As it fell to the ground he dived triumphantly down to demolish its contents, before flying back up to try for a second helping! This proved far more difficult, and in spite of repeated frenzied pecking at the hooked end of the netting, and highly agitated wing-flapping, he had to give up in the end, and sat frustratedly watching from a nearby bough, whilst smaller birds finished off the feast.
Meanwhile life goes on here in our little corner of Somerset – and how precious even the most mundane things seem now that our girls are happily back in their own homes once more. I can sit here at my desk, looking out over the landscape beyond, and revel in the small everyday occurences
A dear little robin, Christmas-card perfect, is perched on the freshly shooting honeysuckle tangled around the wire fence between my studio window and the paddock beyond. He has been watching me intently with his head cocked to one side. When I smile back at him I can almost see his eyes light up.
I have bird feeders hanging from the old, now winter-leafless apple tree in the studio garden – a paved and gravelled area along the lowest level of the garden, separated from the lawn by deeply sloping rockery beds and stone steps which are almost over-run with winter-withered erigeron . These provide endless distractions for us as we sit by the garden room window at mealtimes. A grey and blue pottery bell has a hook where the clapper would be, so that a fat ball can be hung from it. Rather over-enthusiastically I fixed two netted fatballs to this, and when both had just small nuggets of food left in them, we were greatly amused to see a starling balancing precariously on the edge of the bell, frantically pulling at the green netting till he successfully lifted it off its hook. As it fell to the ground he dived triumphantly down to demolish its contents, before flying back up to try for a second helping! This proved far more difficult, and in spite of repeated frenzied pecking at the hooked end of the netting, and highly agitated wing-flapping, he had to give up in the end, and sat frustratedly watching from a nearby bough, whilst smaller birds finished off the feast.
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