A smudge of
cloud catches the sun in an almost completely blue sky, the air
has that cool feel of autumn. I sit outside and my sleeve absorbs
the light condensation on the arm of the garden seat. Who knows
how many early mornings like this we have left to enjoy. We will
soon be muttering 'Winter drawers on!'
sit and listen trying to mask out the sound of the first commuter
heading towards who knows where. The early morning choir has long
since brought its daily entertainment to an end. It is now the
turn of the solo artists. The wood pigeon coos its coo to a correspondent
down the road and gets its answer, and I am reminded of my father
- he enjoyed its deep, soft sound and so do I. I hear the distant
sound of the jay and as always silently say its name in Welsh,
'sgrech y coed', the screech of the woods, how could it be described
in any other way?
magpie sits on my fence and talks loudly whilst a silent blackbird
hides under the blooms of the hydrangea nervously checking whether
the coast is clear for it to forage in the damp grass for a juicy
worm or two. All is clear and he starts his patrol at the far
end of the lawn, he'll work his way gradually closer until he
can see the whites of my eyes, just to show he is not frightened.
And why should he be?
is a busy rustling in the trees beyond my fence as an agile squirrel
runs from slight to slighter branch, judging and adjusting his
path along his very own super highway. I wonder if squirrels
have a highway code, do they keep to the left or to the right?
And when two squirells struggle furiously together on their leafy
roadways is that road rage or something else entirely?
caws nearby, another answers in the distance and a myriad small
birds tweet, twitter, chatter and warble in the fresh September
sky now has a covering of tiny cotton wool balls, it is going
to be a lovely day.