Last Thursday it rained all day, all night and into Friday. Then at 9am the sun came through. Everywhere was glistening and sharp. The air had been scrubbed clean.
The stream was roaring, the pond overflowing at three points. I walked the garden where I could. The first wild daffodils were flowering (much preferable to the many garden varieties)(but then I am biased - living in Wordsworth's country) as are the wild primroses.
Just standing still and hearing the coo-ee of the goldfinches, a robin giving forth in the big sycamore, even the guttural croak of the cock pheasant was wonderful.
We have two squirrels - on Friday morning hungry and chewing at the feeders - both bedraggled.
The spring that has appeared just above the Bramley apple worries me - it cannot be good for its roots as the water sogs the ground. (Good word sog.) Perhaps I will have to put in some sort of drain and divert the flow.
The far top area of the garden in the wood is laced with small water channels all heading to a confluence on the right of the picture. I have to keep these open as best I can. They often dry up in summer and overflow at other times. Drains could be put in to replace and hide them but then, when we have a downpour, these drains would not be big enough to cope - thus flooding.
I have repaired the chiming duck C gave me. It needed restringing after being taken apart in a gale. Whilst I was doing this I found a hibernating ladybird under one of the feet.
And so to a bit on birds and our sparrows.
This is the view through the gazed double doors in the kitchen. The bush outside is the sparrow roosting site (you can tell by the droppings underneath) and when they are feeding on the nearby seed they queue up here.
More garden news - R rang a garden designer but he was away - a week's reprieve!
The greenery sprouting through the soil (well the manurey mulch) is like a few days beard growth all at once. With this week's weather forecast for high pressure (the first time for 3 months) it will mean warm days and frosty nights but, more importantly, no rain.
As long as the water level stays up the frogspawn will be ok.
As you can see there is enough to cause a biblical plague in the area. (Assuming it is not all eaten).
I have just had a friend I. here for coffee and he only has two or three pots in his yard. However I felt, not admiration for the garden, but sympathy - for mowing, weeding and gardening. You know, there is a part of me in agreement with this.
And so as the little hand gets to twelve and the liquidised beef stroganoff masquerading as soup is about to be reheated I bade you a temporary farewell.
(ps. Gillie - I have entered the poem on Donegal into the Strokestown Festival Poetry Competition where, no doubt, it will founder without trace.)