spring

Cyanistes caeruleus or Gavin

Blue Tit in Trilby by Claire Tarling

Gavin is sitting on a bowed branch of firethorn outside the kitchen window.  His hat is gleaming as the sun runs fingers over his plumy skull.  He tilts his white cheek up to the right and blinks away the light to see a fresh, pale green shoot on the branch.  He stabs his short beak tearing the newness to shreds and inside he finds a sweet, juicy aphid just the colour of lime pulp.

‘Mm…I haven’t had one of these in yonks,’ he mutters through part-masticated flesh with two, fine legs dangling from his beak, before gulping down the succulent bug greedily.

Image source: http://www.jijikiki.com/collections/wall-art/products/blue-tit-in-trilby-art-print

http://www.rspb.org.uk/discoverandenjoynature/discoverandlearn/birdguide/name/b/bluetit/

 

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The Hare in the Moon

Star GAzing Hare

 

It is three o’clock in the morning on the fourteenth instant of the fifth month. While Terra sleeps, the Hare turns on the Moon and opens heavy lids and stretches great hind legs and bursts with zeal from dark lunar regolith with the verve of new life. Charged with spring’s brio the Hare goes running, hopping and jumping from Spica to Zubenelgenubi to Antares before he takes one final three thousand trillion mile-long leap.

Vega sleeps next to her husband on the left side by an open window. The Moon Hare creeps with ears flattened to his angular skull through slats of blinds and pads two by two over a white gloss sill. He hops onto the end of a quilted bed. Vega feels his weight. She opens her eyes and sees a shadowy silhouette of tall, alert ears and a gnarled face and she stretches her fingers out and touches the cool, smooth skin of her husband’s back.

Husband lump grunts.

 

‘Hare’ she whispers.

 

And the bed is lighter and the shadow is gone.

 

An hour of fitful slumber later, a coarse barking peals through warm, rain-fresh, moonlit night. Husband lump stirs and turns over.

 

‘Fox’ the woman whispers in half-sleep.

 

It is morning and walking husband phones his wife.

 

‘There is a fox in the drive. His entrails are out of his body and a crow is breakfasting on him. If you can avoid it, I would not go out there. I have called the council and they will come and take it away.’

‘The fox; I heard him in the night.’

 

At ten o’clock at night on the fifteenth instant of the fifth month Vega looks to the May sky.  On indigo air, nestled amidst luminescent cloud-mountains, beyond sable, jagged arbour networks and night-ash leaves, the Hare is chasing the Fox all around the Moon.

 

Full Moon Fox ANita Inverarity

 

 

Images 1&2 – Stargazing Hare and Full Moon Fox by Anita Inverarity, http://www.redbubble.com/people/anitainverarity/works/8385756-star-gazing-hare

Daffodils

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Daffodils, William Wordsworth, 7th April 1770 to 23rd April 1850

I wander’d lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: –
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.

 

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Image 1 and 2 – Narcissus, daffodil, Peter’s Leek or Easter Bell on my kitchen windowsill

A lovely film and reading of Daffodils – http://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/video/281

Daffodils, Wordsworth – http://www.bbc.co.uk/poetryseason/poems/daffodils.shtml