The Pheasant

The pheasant

A royal visitor to our garden

clothed in robes of silk

glowing in the sunlight

copper and gold,

purple, blue, red

white scarf snowy white.

he stands on the rail

six feet from our window

does he know he’s free

from gun and dog

strutting on the lawn

beneath the tree?

stay pretty bird

in sunshine bright

nature’s living treasure

for eyes to admire

not guns to blast

but to give us pleasure

Free Harvest!

A small tree suddenly appeared in the front garden two or three years ago. Nothing unusual because we are continually having to pull out trees grown from seeds carried by birds or fallen from our trees. This one appeared amongst shrubbery so it could have been there longer without me noticing until white flowers appeared two years ago. Last year it had grown considerably and I found a few small plum-like fruit on it. I looked the fruit up in a gardening book. It seems they are cherry plums. I wondered if it had grown from a runner from a nearby grafted cherry tree (the grafted on part is an ornamental cherry but the stock is likely a strong variety not grown for flowers) As I said, this tree has masses of small white flowers in early spring, just like the damsons growing wild in hedgerows. Now matter how it got there, I decided to keep it. I like having blossoms in early spring. It has rewarded me with a kilogram of fruit. I'll give it a bit of pruning and maybe next year...

In my mind I saw a kind of parable. How easily we push aside talent. Talent which, if nurtured, could bring forth that which could give pleasure to many. (I have in mind publishers and art critics/dealers. But it applies to businesses too.)


Magpies Nest Publishing has been brought up to date with my latest novels.
See Wrinkly Writers for a spooky picture of a cat
See Writing For Joy
My Space to hear Ann sing (Any Dream Will Do) while the photo carousel turns. And read a few posts there. (mostly my poems and short stories)

Golden Moments — butterflies

This butterfly was snapped in the garden today. We thought we knew what it was but it did not match the picture we compared it with. Nor any other photograph. Will have to keep on looking. It is quite like another one found in Furness.

Whatever the name of this lovely creature it is a joy to it, along with others, flitting about the garden. (Click on picture for an enlargement)

Golden Moments — little things mean a lot

Sands of Time — Golden Moments



Little things that change our thinking.



Yesterday ended well. Someone got in touch, requesting information about writing and self-publishing. I doubt her comments about my writing were just flattery, otherwise why choose me to gather grains of knowledge? It gave me a good feeling. We all need to feel appreciated. A low self-esteem is not conducive to fulness of life.
Okay, so the sands of time are running low but it is good to find they are mostly golden grains!
Little things really do mean a lot:
A pair of squirrels are going crazy in the garden — leaping and dashing, prancing round each other. Junior fun or the mating game? Ah yes, we oldies remember that all right!
The nesting pigeon has now flown away from the nest. Did that egg finally hatch — it's had plenty of time to hatch and produce a fat youngster. No evidence (carcass or feathers on the ground) that a cat or bird of prey had it for lunch.
The mother blackbird has been trying to feed a young one with a lump of white food. It pecked but turned away. She kept offering it, pecking at it herself to get bits to feed to her infant. It was going on for a while. We suddenly realised it must be a nugget of polystyrene. Concerned (would it choke?), we dashed to the door but the blackbird just flew off with it. Now I am worried it's beak has stuck in the stuff. Well, if I don't worry about that, I'll find something else!
Must make a list out — chores to do and shopping this afternoon.
And must try and get a bit of creative writing done today — lots of starts and much to finish!

The Sands of Time — a misty morning

A Misty Morning in May

Wednesday already! How the days fly past. The days have longer daylight hours so I guess I expect time to go slower but the truth is they seem to shrink. The sands of time running through the hour glass? Seems faster when there are fewer grains to go. Best to make the most of them.
A misty morning heralding a pleasant, if cool, day.