Local patch 19

O open up your heartwood to us will you, willow, 

show your deep within, your rough without, 

your water-brushing bough, your shoot, your grain, your knot?

(Macfarlane & Morris, 2017)

Back home, with our feet firmly on the ground again, I drive across the misty Somerset Levels. Her pollard willows are a feature of this flat iron landscape. Traces of the ancient craft survive and willow beds are tended and harvested for fences and hampers and coffins. It is a renewable, sustainable raw material. The stubby trunks line the ditches and rhynes that march across the levels and moors. They sprout bright new growth: gelled up hair, standing in surprise. 

And between the willows, small gangs of 'ghostly swirling surging whirling melting' starlings (Macfarlane & Morris, 2017) are arrowing to their feeding or roosting grounds. They are gathering on the wires and in the trees, expectant. 
Let the murmurations begin!

(Macfarlane, R & Morris, J, 2017, The Lost Words, Penguin Random House UK)

Local, local patch

After weeks of planning, it was a weekend of preparing and cooking and hospitality as we celebrated 80 years well-lived.It was a privilege to mark the milestone with Mum. Last night we slept deeply and woke slowly.Time today to breath quietly, count our blessings and take stock of our own local, local green patch. 

The new pond is wilding nicely. Very gradually the water is clearing, as nature finds her balance. We have planted with native, or near native, species and taken a step back. Already there are pond skaters, lavae and diving beetles. It is a magnet for the birds. Young starlings, softly brown and speckled, are splashing and dipping in the shallow end, washing their brand new feathers. They clamber on the rocks and hide under the leaves like toddlers at a picnic.

Later this afternoon, I noticed a satisfactory conclusion to a little midweek drama! A pair of great spotted woodpeckers have been constant visitors to the peanut feeder. They must be raising a brood, but I can't find the nest. They are aggressive on the nuts; their stabbing beaks chase off the starlings, finches and tits. But they can't bully the rooks. During a rook-full moment, the GSWs waited in the walnut tree and looked for alternative food sources. The great tit nest in the old ivy drew their attention and I watched as they explored the nestbox, tapping the underside and reaching in through the entrance. 

However, today the great tits had fledged. The walnut tree was full of little birds, pale imitations of their parents. They sat, blinking in the bright light and slightly bemused. But the GSWs were only interested in the peanuts.

I stretched out, briefly, in the late afternoon sun and let the garden do its restorative work. The air was vibrant with noise and movement. Insects zummed and thrummed their busy paths. Sparrows and starlings jostled and chattered in noisy groups and the swifts screamed overhead. 

No time, this weekend, for long walks and big views, but our local, local patch has cast its spell. There is plenty going on right here.