An increasingly rare sight these days is my favourite early songbird, the Song Thrush. I miss the thrushes’ clear phrases awaking the dawn of early spring and echoing over the village in early evening. Is this a going to be a silent Spring?
Continue reading “Our Silent Springs”
Another walk with John Clare is due. Winter is certainly smiling today. It’s a clear crisp morning. In the night the secret ministry of frost has been at work.
Continue reading “A Winter Morning Walk with John Clare”
After a very cold night we wake to a crisp winter morning of frosted grass with the bright sun rising over the house tops. This is ‘day’s most sacred hour‘, full of the ‘innocence of a new born day‘.
Continue reading “Is This the Song of Spring?”
Coming into the peace of wild things in disturbed times.
Continue reading “The Peace of Wild Things”
