The attached picture is of a rooks’ nest at the end of our garden. It’s always struck me as odd, as there’s a larger rookery a couple of hundred yards further down the road, with several nests. But we’ve just got this one on its own. Why? Are they loners? Exiles? Have they been expelled? The original nest blew down in a gale over the winter, but they’ve rebuilt it. Just wish I could speak rook.
It’s warm, yes. That’s good. But my garden is in a desperate state. Nothing in the way of new growth, and nothing to watch growing. It struck me that the watching of new growth in the garden, that long, spring vigil where I’d return from work each day and inspect the whole garden methodically for change, cheering on shoots and raging at damage by slugs and pests, had become an important ritual for me and I’ve missed it this year.
I keep reading that everything will catch up, but I’m not confident that I will, the beds are still unworkable and the seeds unplanted. That makes me sad, and rather anxious.
Sat outside today with laptop, notebook and voice recorder, and importantly, beer. Couldn’t use the laptop because the sun was too bright, but hell, that’s a problem I’m more than happy to be living with given the weather we’ve had for the last few weeks.
And then I started noticing the butterflies. First ones I’ve seen all year. There were lots of them too.
And some of the bees that usually make nests in the clay. No chance of that at the moment though, the ground is so waterlogged, and likely to remain so. I worry about my bees. I want them to have somewhere to live. I might dig up some big piles of earth for them which are high enough not to flood. I also have a bee hotel that they’re welcome to move in to.
Not much sign of many plants having survived though. We’ll see, but I think this year might be a gardening write off.
Testing for the new portable brain. Don’t use it enough to get things done rather than fiddling to maintain things.
Test of new shiny portable brains