Daisies! (two) - Spring!

Nice Butty I've seen a hoopoe two days running now. But the Tawny Owl that should have flown north is still hooting right behind my head at night. I'll miss him when he goes.

More info. on the baby mule. Mr. Donkey and Mrs. Mare have been together for the past 8 years, so it was thought Mrs. Mare was infertile and then, Wednesday evening, along came baby Mule. (As you might gather, just been chatting to the farmer!)

There's a female pigeon hiding behind our plant pots and a very overexcited male pigeon. I'd rather see a foal!

Going to London tomorrow for the w/e. It's supposed to be about 18 down there on Sunday. I can't believe it.

It's not a donkey - it's a gorgeous baby mule because the mother is a beautiful brown mare.

A baby donkey has just been born in the field up the lane. Tender new growth. Beautiful.

New snow on the hills overnight, so not quite summer here yet.
Three roe deer in the garden this morning, eating honeysuckle buds. I wonder if they've found my parsley yet?

Last one I heard was on Torcello 12years ago.

Yes soop. Late this afternoon, after a day of rain, rain, rain. Celebrating that the rain had stopped perhaps.

You could almost start a summer thread on the strength of that, butty!

Do you know, I was thinking about cuckoos earlier today. Nice you have heard one, butty. It's usually early May before we hear them here.

Is that so, Butty?

Cuckoo, cuckoo!

Thanks broom.

B

Keep at it, dusty! Non-poems can be just as much fun .

Third line should be they not the...

Lost the rhythm too

Bags
Oops... you are a "tinker boots"

Bags you've just summed up my own attempts at poetry writing.

Butty, Bags and Soop
Like making poetry oop.
The notice things
And write them down
And then can't find
A rhyme that fits the end.

Thank you, broomsticks

Butty, Bags and Soop. I wish I could write poetry but I enjoy yours anyway.

Bags Your poem is beautiful.

Pearl grey whispy cloud
Float above a pewter sea.
Islands hide behind a veil
Through which the ferry glides.
Oystercatchers upturn pebbles
As the tide drifts in
And leaves again...

Broomsticks, we have a tiny garden, about 5 metres square but we have a number of avian visitors, oddly enough usually solitary.One bird I thought a sparrrow turned out to be a dunnock. It is the same size , but creeeeeeeeeps around on the ground, it is more the shape of a small nuthatch than a sparrow & darker.

We had a lovely troop of titmice before the snow, I hope they survived.

Bags, I love your poems, they paint an authentic picture for me. Very evocative.

Dunnocks tend to skulk around ground level although do go to bird tables. They don't flock with sparrows. The blackbird trio may well be one from last years brood! not sure - I don't think they do the dunnock thing.

Marvellous

A hazy day of misty grey,
Soft diffused sun all gold,
Bright and light on dead dry grass
And old gold holly leaves.
Across the field a heron flies
And lands in a forest of rush.
Brown winter larches changing now
To an almost orange glow.
Greening soon, greening soon.