The swallows are back. So are the blackbirds. Maybe it is that above all else that proves seasonal change is, perversely, a constant. The Terrier and I walked along the beach last Monday morning and a flock of five swallows swooped and darted close to the sand, pert and teasing, resting on dessicated timbers and logs and then taking peripatetic flight again.
Here, the robins return in spring, and the osprey, along with many of our migratory species. But, the humble robin, a bird of which few take notice, tells me spring has spring. And, in fall, it is the starling. European imports that sail in great murmurations across the sky. Again, not a magnificent bird, but a predictable indicator.
Did you meet the Roberts? They sound like lovely people.
Thank you for the seasonal check-in, Prue, and congratulations on The Red Thread. Thrilling! 🎈
Prue, with an early-morning start on a misty-moisty autumn day on which the sky was still dark when I opened the curtains, this beautiful post about spring springing so wonderfully in Tasmania has given me such a boost! Thank you.
The story of how you inherited the garden is beautiful. Where it comes to a garden's identity, continuity is as important as any new-generation planting!
Such great links to check out, too - you give us such treasures to explore. Grateful and honoured that you've included my own - thank you.
Beautiful. Congrats on the fab reviews!
Thank you for that lovely peaceful interlude. It's autumnal sunshine here with misty morning starts and a stillness in the air. I love that book The Dalai Lamas Cat! I did not know the author was on here, thank you for sharing that. 🙏