Aprils End

What a week1  We walked to the “Tor” by Mynydd Dinas to be greeted by first sighted Swallows feeding low across the fields as we drank in the fantastic view of Aberafan and Swansea Bay.  Unplanned walks are always the best.  As the sun dipped below the sea I became Mam again ‘Ooo you’re in shorts let’s find a shortcut home?’

Rabbit trails where once Hares roamed.  Childhood memories flashed in my minds eye watching the “lampers” from my sisters bedroom window.

Wimberry plants! Look!  look!  berries forming  lots of them – when was the last time I ate wimberry pie? When a child.  Suddenly longing to share with my child the searching, picking, waving off flies, carrying our little tubs home (so much effort for so few berries) pastry making, baking, peeking at the juices bursting through the pastry as THAT wonderful smell fills the home and finally with custard at the ready…EATING!

Dusk in the woods, above my head pipestrelles flutter like big black butterflies amongst the tall oaks.  Bluebells a purple haze darkening till only their perfume gives them away.  I have always loved this time of day when the light fades giving way to a secret world of owls, badgers, bats and tree spirits.

Closer to home in the back garden, the anticipated magpie attack.  The parent birds flew to our back door shrieking the alarm.  We ran out to shoo off the predator.  One nest lost one nest saved.  This happens everytime we have nesting blackbirds,  heads get ripped off nestlings by magpies nesting closer and closer to houses.

The sparrows are trying their luck now, looking very cute with big tufts of maremma hair in their beaks -they’ll have very cosy nests -just watch out for the seagulls mateys!

This morning which is what prompted this new page, fresh from sleep l stepped out my door and heard a high piping sound, short little bursts.  finally the alarmist moved and there perfectly camoflaged was a blue tit amongst the spring green leaves of a silver birch tree.  The birds darker flashes blending against the twigs the yellowy hues against the new leaves even blue crest blending, into sky above its little head.

What perfect hand could create such a match?  as l write I recall a line from sunday school  that I loved ‘and God knows the fall of the humblest sparrow’  I know thats not quoted quite right but the idea is.