Tuesday, 23 February 2016
The turning of the season
I can feel winter drawing to a close. The Bewick's swans are quite sleepy now, a sign that they will soon take to the skies and make that mammoth journey back to Arctic Siberia. Thirty left last night, and the conditions are good for more to leave tonight and tomorrow. It's such a privilege to see them so close, from the hide in the picture they are often just a few feet away. In their summer breeding grounds they will be quite remote, never seeing a person or a building. I'm hoping it's a good year for them and that lots return in October.
The weather was glorious today. After school it was just me and the littlest boy for a while so we headed outside. I mowed the grass, which turned out to be surprisingly long. The littlest boy did things to wood with a hacksaw. He and the middle boy live for the day when they're allowed a hatchet. Me not so much. Underneath all of the thick growth the grass was sparse and the moss was thick. I doubt I'll do anything about it, I'm not too bothered so long as there is some sort of green covering. A robin flew down after I'd finished and picked about finding something or other to eat. I can't imagine covering the grass with moss killer and then watching the wildlife walking about in it.
In the pond I could see definite movement, and when I looked out of an upstairs window earlier I'm sure I saw something jumping in. In the kitchen I opened the drawer and looked at the packets of seeds. Soon, soon.