Me and my lodger

As some of you know, I have a lodger. And, while I’m not one to just by appearances, this is what she looks like (she’s a collared dove):

This gutter is at my eye-line when I stand on my balcony. I can watch her from my sitting room. When she first moved in she seemed very aware if I moved around - her little head bobbed up and her eyes seemed more alert. But now she takes very little notice - and I don’t get closer than about eight feet.  

    

And she’s not alone:

As you can see, this is not the best-constructed nest. Not much more than a haphazard collection of twigs. And I watch as the male arrives with a long twig to add to the collection. There is much grateful head-bobbing as he hands it over. And off he goes.

Leaving her with a twig far to long for her to even turn it round easily so it can sit on top of the others. She shuffles, tries bashing on the wall beside her to break it up, and eventually bits of if fall off. If she had words, she’d be muttering to herself: ‘Bloody bird. Can’t even manage to find a twig the right length. Might has well have gone to IKEA and come home with the box, not opened it to find out which bits were missing ...’

And when he brought her another, she waited until he had flown away and dropped it over the side!

She doesn’t have words, of course. And I’ve watched Springwatch often enough to know that the chances of her clutch surviving is less than fifty per cent. She’s already down to one egg: one has rolled off the end of her gutter onto one below.

But that doesn’t stop me feeling fiercely protective of this little family. I can spend hours watching her, rearranging twigs, shifting on her nest and then poking beneath her chest to make sure the remaining egg is snug beneath her. So if I’m late posting blogs over the nest week or few, I’m probably on bird-duty!

Dear Spring

Dear Spring,

Winter has had its time - really, it’s done its worst. We’ve had the complete repertoire - dark, wind, rain, snow, frost, blizzards, storms - and many of us have come out the other side a little chastened. Sometimes, here in the comfortable western economies, we assume we can control more or less everything. This winter was a brutal reminder that we can’t. People were stuck for hours in their cars. Pipes burst and left families without water. Electricity failed and the vulnerable were freezing. 

We’ve learned our lesson, honestly we have. Weather is a serious issue and we will respect it in the future. Promise. 

And so, Spring, don’t you think it’s time you turned up and cheered us all up a bit? I know you’ve provided a few carpets of snowdrops, but they’re looking a bit sorry for themselves after being deluged with snow. Surely it’s time for a daffodil or two? A splash of yellow to remind us what sunshine looks like? Fresh green leaves on the beech trees? Birds a-twittering and gathering bits of stuff to build nests? Enough warmth in the sun for us to take some of our woollies off?

In a couple of weeks the clocks will go forward. It is a structured reminder that longer days are coming - a device dreamed up by men and women to trick us into believing winter is behind us. We need the Weather to catch up.

Please, Spring, do the decent thing and bring us some sunny days. With daffodils.

Happy Spring!

It's Easter. And so I doubt if many will be dropping into blogland this week. You will be too busy with chocolate eggs and hot cross buns. Maybe even trimming a bonnet or two. Celebrating the end of winter, greeting the possibilities of spring. It is time to put away the winter woollies and thermal undies, to think about cutting the grass, to plant early potatoes. Climb a hill and savour the view in the fragile spring sunshine; wander in woods and marvel - as we do each year - as trees sprout tiny green buds. The grim days of snow and storms are behind us ...

I know that here in the west we link all this razzmatazz to a Christian festival. Other cultures with comparable climates also have stories to underpin a bit of a knees-up and this time of year. I choose not to comment on any of that, other than to offer good wishes to anyone celebrating as spring arrives, with or without a god to justify a party.

Me - I looking forward to greeting the arrival of spring. Well, that was the plan...

I don't know how it was where you are, but, where I am, anyone strutting down the High Street in an Easter bonnet would have had a hard time hanging onto it. But they'd have hung on if they could, if only to protect their heads from the hail. The days might be a bit longer, but it was so dark around lunchtime I needed lights on just to make a cup of tea. As for abandoning the winter woollies - I lit my wood-burning stove and settled down with a book, just like I do the depths of winter.

I'm certainly not going to abandon my fleeces and waterproofs. Nor venture out to cut my grass just because the calendar tells me it should be spring. Had I even thought about walking I might have been blown off a hillside

So someone clearly forget to tell the weather-fairies that it's time to cheer up. Me - I'll huddle by my fire for a bit longer, till those fairies finally to come out to play. How about you - did you brave the weather and slosh through mud on an Easter egg hunt? Or maybe the weather was kinder where you are.

Happy spring!