The other day I was hanging out the washing, and I saw something from the corner of my eye. I looked down, and there he was. My Blackbird. The one who has taken to singing his evening song in the plum tree. The plucky young thing that won the battle for the garden several weeks ago. My little friend with the beady eye and bright orange beak. He looked up at me with his head cocked to one side, and I remember feeling exceptionally privileged.
I watch the birds from my utility room window all the time. It's testament to my laundry regime. There are lots of visitors throughout the day. Oh nothing particularly glamorous; wren, blue tit, great tit, thrush, robin and so on (although I will never forget the time that I looked up from reading my book and saw a Sparrowhawk sat on the fence. That was thrilling). They mainly pass through, or stop to rummage amongst the shrubs and have a drink from the pond. I admire their industry, and their getting on and doing. They work hard for their families. I am starting to recognise their individual songs, which pleases me greatly. Garden birds have fascinated me since I was a girl, and they continue to do so.
Of course I find them almost impossible to photograph, so a few close ups of stuff in the garden instead. Which is romping away in earnest now. Olly and I have sowed pollinator friendly plants with gay abandon. There are more anemones than you can shake a stick at, the sweet peas are in the ground, the aliums are already reaching for the stars and the clematis is a stunner. I have self seeded loveliness all over the place, which is my personal holy grail. I am hoping for a mad bed head riot of fabulousness.
I'm afraid that I've been rather absent. No reason. Just family life. Which is tickety boo by the way. I may bombard you for the rest of this week. Post after post after post. Wouldn't that be a treat ;)) I intend to catch up on all your posts as soon as possible.
What's going on in your garden? What's your favourite birdy visitor? I'd love to know.
Cheerio lovely ones.