It’s certainly been a week of Nature’s firm hand interfering with my poultry. It started with all of the chicks being nabbed when my head was turned. Then a few days later, early one morning, the cockerel and hens disappeared. The only evidence of the dastardly happening was one corpse and scattered feathers trailing next to the bushes and the stillness of course. Boy is it quiet in the garden now. The Orioles, Cuckoos, Woodpeckers and Hoopooes rattle on in the woodland amidst the usual throng of feathered inhabitants but I do miss the gossipy girls and Mr Tokkie’s rise and shine announcements outside my front door to start the morning.
After their 21 days of careful nurturing, cracking out of their eggs and navigating the coop, grass and doorstep my Easter born chicks were a delight to behold. Everything changes. It changes with the seasons, with our view and demands. Yes the countryside, farmland, ancient woodland and waterways accommodate our expectations, supports us, frustrates and delights us all at the same time. Time to hug a tree for solace perhaps and listen to the musical chirpings on the radio. It would be a rather sad repartee telling my fellow presenters Liz Garnet, Deborah Alexander and the big cheese Dave Hailwood on Ex-Patradio’s Girls do Coffee show this week, as well as the multitude of world wide listeners, about my loss and Mr Fox’s gain.
Meanwhile the bleating sheep make noises that sound like members of the Darby and Joan club wittering on from behind the hedge. What have they seen that I missed? World Naked Gardening Day has already happened! The bullocks stare in unison whilst walking past with the dogs next to the freshly dug moles hills. Further along the water’s edge the green frogs plop into the millpond avoiding my oncoming footsteps. Water voles whizz expertly into the undergrowth not far from a big green lizard, with its springtime blue throat and bitten off tail, looking quizzically at this arcadia enveloped by the zipzipzip sound of crickets.
Spring is here, joy fills our hearts with hope, new green buds of love and growth all to be tempered by the dream-waking prod reminding us that where there is sunshine there is usually shadow. This sense of what’s, at times, unquantifiable reminds me of a memorable film.
A Matter of Life and Death
First seen as a young teenager, it makes you wonder if perhaps we too can go up to the heavenly court and argue our case for an oversight made by, in this case, the character Conductor 71, played by Marius Goring. Every time the foppish frenchman visits the scent from his rose buttonhole alerts David Niven’s character Peter Carter to his presence. Ah the rose perfume wafts through the screen.
Back to garden where the innocent souls dart about my patch as well as creatures further afield seem oblivious to their beginnings and endings. We all have our beginnings and endings, with all the seasons stretched in between; dusted with an eternally springing hope for Nature’s next surprise. So it goes on and on.
Perhaps it’s best not to dwell too much and await a french perfumed rose. A bloom portending the likelihood of defying the fearsome unknown and stepping into my miracle.
Gwen Jenner – www.gwenjenner.com