Sunday, 15 May 2011


To start with here is a picture of the Nook version of Woodhenge, seats 15, potatoes and sausages to be cooked in the ashes of the fire.
And if you need it Wild Garlic behind you.

It is raining and is going to rain so the forecasters say.
Yesterday R weeded most of the back bed by the front door - I know that sounds strange but the front door is at the back of the house and no one uses it except the postman and paper delivery. We all go in and out by the back door which is at the side and leads into the utility room.

It is above the front door (at the back) that the swallows are nesting.

Now, here I am typing away in the study and looking out of the window up the garden. A small bird flies down and enters the disused birdfeeder on the shed given to us by Rev. D and Rev. J. Then another identical bird.
Small brown bird syndrome comes upon me and I am plagued by thoughts of chiffchaffs and garden warblers until - I know! - they are spotted flycatchers.
Diagnosis confirmed when one flies a short way off, perches on top of a stick and does the flycatcher thing - land, fly out and catch insect, back to perch and so on.

Not the most concealed place for a nest, especially with squirrels and jays about. I suggested I go out and put up small walls on two sides to give them privacy but was overruled by R who said I was to leave them alone. After all I am not a spotted flycatcher.

No, I thought, but I know about Jays and Squirrels.

Now, why am I having vacillation (it is not infectious) over capital letters?

The cock pheasant - known as Mr Phes - is calling - time to go and find him some cough medicine.

Oh! And rain? - my salvation, I cannot mow the lawns today.

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