Sunday, 13 February 2011


It is winter, it is wet, it is muddy, it is cold so where do the Grandchildren want to be - no, not on the nice warm kitchen near the Aga but out in the spitting rain kicking a football, walking along the top of walls with a six feet drop to paving, seeing how deep the stream is, or just mucking about - the operative word is mucking.

They also have a routine when they come to
stay. Run up the woodland paths and J pats the little boy by the path shown here. He has followed us for almost thirty years - nothing special, made of concrete but a bit different and not completely tasteless.

The paths through the wood need a new layer of wood chippings again - I have the sticks and the chipper but as yet not the motivation so they are getting muddy.

At last there is scent in the garden - the
sarcococcus by the back door and a hammamelis lower down.

Also, looking out of the study window the other day I saw our one-legged cock chaffinch.

He has been around for about two and a half years now and I never thought he would survive. He hops around on the ground living off the dropped seed from the feeders.
I have never seen him on a feeder - not easy with one leg.

Perhaps we should call him Cassidy but only the ancient would make the connection.
Now I am in trouble - if you remember the TV cowboy series I am calling you ancient!

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