A harder frost this morning, solidifying the mud underfoot. When I went for a walk with the woofers around mid day, I could hear the crunch underfoot. Pretty frost patterns on blades of grass.
I stepped slowly and mindfully across the playing field grass tuning in to the crunching sound underfoot. High in the nearby trees there was the background music of the birds singing.
Colour contrasts today… noticing the darkness and lightness of fresh new growth and buds.
In the afternoon, I spotted a male blackbird near one of my pyracantha plants in the garden. I saw him peck and remove a berry. Berry and beak fused in the distance. They were both the same orange-yellow colour.
A little later in the early evening whilst I was typing a letter, I heard the familiar call of the Canada Goose. I imagined them flying overhead in ‘V’ formation like a squadron, heading for the park I’d visited earlier in the day.
I am reminded of Mary Oliver‘s (1986) poem ‘Wild Geese’, here’s a few lines …
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.