Waking with the dawn as usual, shafts of clear, rosy light streaks the golden corn-tops. Bluetits pecked and scrabbled at the insects clinging to the window-frame, a greater spotted woodpecker ate the nuts in the feeder while the smaller birds clucked angrily in their beaks, wanting a turn at the food.

Now, later, the young buzzard (Buteo buteo) squeals over the corn. He’s learning to hunt, not doing badly, but the crows think it’s fun to tease and torment him. Weeks back, when he first flew, mum and dad were around and would dive on the crows to scare them off. Now they feel he’s big enough and smart enough to take care of himself.

Mornings are good, a favourite time. I can sit up in bed with a pot of tea and the laptop, get a lot of work done. And all the time, out of the window, the goddess shows me the beauty of the world. Living down here, three quarters of a mile from any road and in the shadow of the Black Mountains means quiet, solitude, just the sounds of the Earth – and there are many of those – for company. And the purring of cats 🙂

A bluetit taps on the window … telling me time to get back to work …

Elen Sentier
… behind every gifted woman there’s usually a rather taleneted cat …
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