A sparrowhawk flew across the garden today, at full pelt, to land on the branch of the evergreen. We were sitting drinking tea in the sunshine when it darted past us, wings tucked tight to its sides.
It went off again, over the neighbour’s roof, to be mobbed by small birds. We couldn’t see what they were.
The garden is full of bullfinches. They risk a lot here – the sparrowhawk, the neighbourhood cats – and there are owls too. We hear them sometimes in the middle of the day. It’s not easy being a small bird, or a small mammal. There are lots of things out to get you.
Today feels like the first day of spring. There are bright green leaves forming on the willow tree, primroses in the banks, a sudden surge of buds on the horse chestnut tree.
This is a time of opening. My favourite time of year, really. I am someone who likes anticipation, the feeling of doors opening and of new beginnings.