Standing up for Nature
Covid19 Lockdown Diaries – The Unexpected Guest. Lockdown, day in, day out, day in, day out. Break for Lunch, break for Tea (I’m Northern I don’t do Dinner or Supper!) Breakfast, a break from my fast, oh yeah, I get it now! Meal to meal, drink to drink, is it too early? Who’s watching anyway?…
Don’t Look Back Whether there was a fig tree in the garden, I just can’t remember. I do recall, though, the grapevine roofing over our summer afternoon patio with grandma and my friends. “Had I stayed,” I told my sister via Skype, “I now could have been self-isolating with you, mum, and dad in grandma’s…
S is for Solitude The mantra is that your daily lockdown walk is good for your mental health, so am I alone in thinking that walking in solitude in the countryside increases one’s sense of isolation? I have read a considerable amount of new nature and mindfulness-inspired writing. Now the covid crisis has prompted newspapers…
Brimming over with bees I’m going to be honest with you. Covid-19 and lockdown have left me feeling decidedly befuddled. Confined to my home and garden would normally be my idea of heaven, but positive feelings are tempered with the frustration of finding online delivery slots at Sainsbury’s, incessantly cleaning door knobs, and trying to…
Wildlife from my Window I bought it from the pound shop. I really didn’t think it would work, but for a quid, I was willing to try. I stuck the small, clear-plastic bird feeder on the window on New Year’s Day and waited. The seed clumped together, it had to be emptied, washed and refilled…
Since the start of lockdown. I have been to my local wood every day. However, just as the anemones and bluebells are making their yearly appearance, I feel that dreaded tickle at the back of my throat. It is not a sinister cough – phlegmy and fruity-sounding, without any other symptoms. But the advice online…
Pantone 18-3838 With a sense of playful irony, I suggested they call her Corina Violet, this nameless baby born in a pandemic. A pretty name for a harsh moment. My garden is laced with violets and I spot them lining the path through the woodland that hugs the river on my solitary, daily walk. Issac…
Time for hoverflies My dad used to say: “Time flies, we cannot, as so erratic is their flight.” He might have been quoting someone, but for some reason I never thought to ask. In lockdown, time is far from flying but I have been making time for flies. Hoverflies to be exact; except it’s hard…
Being More Gilbert Sitting in the deserted garden at The Wakes in Selborne looking out on the Great Mead and Selborne Hanger is one of life’s pleasures. The great oak, planted in 1729 has recently burst into leaf, the kestrels nest in their customary hole half-way up its trunk. Brimstone, peacock and orange tip butterflies…
Isolation I press my nose against the pane in wonder. Sparrows and starlings squabble over seeds, and a blackbird sings. I can half-hear it, muffled by the barrier between us. My eyes slip down the lawn, past the trees, through the borders, to the back fence, and beyond. And beyond… And beyond the fence… well,…