A terrace of houses going uphill, trees in front of them.
Meanwhile, the sun came up today on Trelawney Road, Falmouth. My picture.

Meanwhile

On a happier note, the sun came up this morning and the birds sang. There was a wood pigeon.

I’ve refilled the bird-feeders outside the kitchen window, and a blackbird (black, thus male) has taken up residence on the garden table. A carrion crow (I looked this one up too) has worked out a technique for hanging from the square feeder (fat block with added bugs) while pecking at it, and the debris from that activity feeds the blackbird.

Time was, I had a regular flock of tiny birds (house sparrows mainly), all feeding at once and all flying off at once. They’ve migrated to the sunny side of next door, where there are more bird feeders than I have, and a bush to hide in. There’s also a cat hiding beneath the bush, but from the way they react whenever it moves, I’d guess the tiny birds are well aware of the danger.

Maybe the cat’s just going through the motions. The PA system from the docks occasionally echoes across the harbour, and the gulls — actually, I don’t really notice the gulls, except when they’re treading heavily across my skylight. I like the sound of rain on the skylight.

Meanwhile, the world goes on, as Mary Oliver puts it. There are geese occasionally — that swish of wings — and I must look out for the swans. I remember that time on Prince of Wales Pier, watching the swans trailed by their cygnets, one still trying to ride on its parent’s back.

Meanwhile, the world goes on. Wild Geese. Mary Oliver.

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Writer, editor, publisher, Creative Director (seriously) at Climbing Tree Books (dot net). All views are my own. Mostly.

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William Essex

William Essex

Writer, editor, publisher, Creative Director (seriously) at Climbing Tree Books (dot net). All views are my own. Mostly.

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