The Things We Overlook

dandelion.jpgOn Easter Sunday I spotted the first dandelion flower of the year. We’ve been picking the leaves for salads for a couple of weeks ; along with  sorrel and the early chives they have supplemented the shop bought salad I’ve been buying since we cut the last of our home grown lettuces. Looking at Instagram I often feel that the commonplace and the ordinary are overlooked in favour of more exciting, glamorous gardening achievements. I see photos of gardeners showing off the first blossom from their almond trees or the luscious fruits of lemons in their enormous heated greenhouses, of course I’m a little jealous, if only finances would stretch to a new greenhouse or a larger plant buying budget! My own precious garden moments are more mundane, but they are still thrilling to me. Even the first dandelion flower, knowing it is one of many wild plants  that I can pick and eat for free gives me joy and a sense of achievement – much more than buying expensive plants from glossy catalogues or plant fairs – and then posting photos of them online!

Other mundane moments of the pas week include spotting a buzzard sitting high in the branches of the silver birch as I chopped veg for tea. Over the next few evenings I found myself watching for him, discovering  ragged piles of pigeon and magpie feathers just outside the garden gate. We ate our first nettle risotto of the year, picked leeks (only the smallest are left now, but oh so sweet after the frosts and snow) and unwrapped the fig tree from its winter fleece to discover new shoots and small fruits that have survived the winter.

Garden Robin.jpg

The robin is growing bolder, sitting still long enough for me to take a few photos of him on the fence. He still won’t come and sit beside me, but he will hop down and take food from the ground beside me. The pigeons are courting, one of them is sitting on a nest, a ragged affair in next door’s damson tree and the female blackbird is busy pulling up worms. A flock ( is there a collective noun I’m not aware of) of siskins descended on the garden, the females  gorging on the sunflower seeds in the bird feeder, happy to jostle the goldfinches away (collective noun – a “charm”, or my favourite “a troubling” of goldfinches – thank you google).

I’m reading “The Wood”, by John Lewis – Stemple, the story of a year in the life of the flora and fauna that live in the small wood near his home in Herefodshire. Like his earlier books (“The Running Hare” and “Meadowland”), this is a beautiful imagining* of life in the English countryside. The wood he writes about covers just three and a bit acres, but is filled with birds, ancient trees, wild flowers and creatures that many of us know exist, but seldom see, He spots badgers, a vixen carrying food home to her cubs, migrating birds and insects, describing them in simple language and making me want to walk in the woods at dusk!

Much of my life is ordinary, mundane and lacking excitement. But, the sudden joy of spotting that buzzard in the tree, the siskins, or last year’s early dusk encounter with a couple of boxing hares  spark feelings of joy and gratitude. Reading The Wood I feel lucky and blessed to live here, to be able to find time to just sit, look out of my window and see all that my small Cheshire garden has to offer. I feel I am part of a wider community of nature lovers and people who appreciate the ordinary and the every day. Look out of your window, look up as you walk along the pavements and find moments of joy in the world around you.

I share photos of the things I spot from my garden, walks in the wood or snatched moments of excitement in an otherwise dull day in my Instagram stories – check out the “highlights” on my profile to see them.

 

  • In an author statement from the The Running Hare, the book is  described as a “substantially non fictional account based on the life, experiences and recollections of the author … except in minor respects .. the contents of this book are true”.

Notes From a Small Garden

My new garden robin.jpgWe have a new Robin, I spotted him on Tuesday. He’s much more cautious than our “old friend” who has kept us company all winter. This new visitor is smaller and as I approached the bird feeder he pressed his back against the fence-  wanting to edge away –  but  also hopeful that I was bringing snacks. I sprinkled a few sunflower seeds on the ground at my feet, he waited until my back was turned before hopping down to seize the plumpest and flying into the apple tree’s branches. I wonder how long it will be before he grows as bold as his friend (pictured above), who would hop down and follow me from the back door to the bin where I store bird food,  then scold me if I didn’t throw a few treats his way before making my way to the hazel tree where I hang the feeders.

I feel sad that we have lost our “old friend”, all winter there have been three robins visiting the garden, but only one has become bold enough to sit beside me as I drink my early morning cuppa on the garden bench. The others kept their distance. I wonder if this is a sign that spring really is here and soon they will start competing for territory, no longer keeping the winter truce which has allowed them all equal access to the food we put out for them every morning. I wonder what happened to my friendly robin? Maybe he failed to spot the sparrow hawk that visits each lunch time, or came off worse in a scuffle with another male. Perhaps (and I hope not), he was caught by the pesky cat “no tail”, who prowls around looking for  birds to toy with –  but not eat – he’s too well fed to make a proper meal of them. He often left them, shocked (or worse, needing to be put out of their misery) on the back step, but as he has learnt he’s not welcome here, he prefers the hidden space behind the shed where he can bask in the sunshine unseen from the house and lick his lips as he hopes for easy prey.

This new robin is quite tiny, his plumage bright red and his eyes beady black. Today he sat and watched me as I added some veg peelings to the compost bin, edging closer as I searched through the top layers, hoping to see signs of the brandling worms that have been buried deep over winter. Soon they will make their way to the top layers, their bodies entwined as they respond to the warmer weather, a writhing mass of breeding worms that turn my garden waste into rich, black gold to mulch the veg patch. This robin hasn’t learnt what a rich source of food can be found in the compost yet, it won’t be long before he’s hopping in and out. The wooden lid doesn’t fit properly and the older, wiser birds know that it’s full of meaty morsels, slugs, beetles and grubs that have made their home in the warm, moist compost.

male blackbird

As I walk back to the house, the blackbird calls to me and as I turn to listen, the tiny pink flower of the hazel catches my eye. It’s the first time this year I’ve spotted them in our garden. I’ve been too busy rushing in and out of the house, avoiding the cold blasts, the rain and even snow this winter. I have photographed them on my walks, but this is the first from my own garden.

Female hazel catkin.jpg

Standing at the door, I watch out new robin squabble with the hedge sparrows and scuffle under the feeders for dropped seed with a couple of gold finches and a  thrush that turns over leaves looking for snails. We may only have a small garden, but on mornings like these it has as much to offer as any nature reserve and I head back indoors grateful to be home from my London trip , and not even grumpy any more that I was woken by these same birds singing their  dawn chorus at 5.30am!

If you want to know more about the robin, or the rest of our common garden birds, a good place to start is the RSPB website.