We have now realised that the birds partaking of the front garden feeders are field residents from across the road.
Their numbers now include gymnastic blue tits
and patient sparrows here waiting their turn at the trough.
Our young visitors bear only so much rain before disappearing, following further leakage from the clouds, leaving the winter flowering cherry to carry the torch for signs of life
amid dripped drops clinging to glistening branches,
dotting netting; slicking crab apples; offering sparkle to the dank morning.
before a further temporary lull lured the great
and blue tits back for a brief breakfast refill.
The grey day gathered relentless gloom.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy pork paprika, special savoury rice, and stringless runner beans, with which she drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Malbec.
I was prompted by ‘Time Clock’, today’s thought-provoking post from SueW, to visit my library to retrieve
a teenage poem I penned more than sixty years ago. I began with the classic iambic pentameter, then tried something more concrete.
Through mirky windows on this the gloomiest morning of the week I watched still timid visitors who had just found bird feeders installed a few days earlier.
This robin can’t have been one of our normal residents, because
it flew off upon coming aware of me, even though I kept behind the glass.
Most small birds don’t alight on their target immediately, but, like this great tit, first occupy an intermediate perch taking a shufti around to be reasonably assured of security before
chancing their claws on the proffered food.
This evening we dined at Lal Quilla in Lymington. My main course was Chicken Jaljala; Jackie’s, Chicken Dopiaza; We shared mushroom fried rice and egg paratha, and both drank Kingfisher.. In the two months since our last visit they have been tastefully redecorated and staff have changed. Manager Raj is still there and the service is as friendly and efficient as ever.