Opening up

It is time to open up, we’ve endured all that Winter as sent our way. It’s time to allow the spirit of the seasons back into our lives; but gently, as slowly and gently as an opening bud, or a butterfly pumping life into its shrivelled wings. Think of the baby Rabbit exiting its burrow for the first time; stopping, cautiously sniffing the air for signs of danger. We’ve all bolted back into the burrow for safety, now it’s time to reemerge, wiser, bolder. One step at a time. – that’s the way.

If we are fortunate enough to open our eyes, not only are we awake, we are also alive. Alive and capable of enjoying the abundance of beautiful free gifts provided by none other than Mother Nature herself.
For me, the most wonderful of these free gifts is the dawn chorus. Throughout Spring, this short, sweet, delightful experience provides the perfect supercharge needed to strengthen my connection with the natural world.
Each morning an advancing tide of light laps against the shore of night. At first, it is a soft, gentle, light, that soothes away the blackness of night.
This fine line, where the incoming tide of light, of the new day, touches the blackness of the night, is hard to detect and is missed by many of us. But fear not, help is at hand, no, not in the form of a cockerel sitting on a farmyard fence, but by a choir of feathered songsters, whose melodic song helps clear the listener’s mind.
Presently, here at Ladybirch Cottage, it is the Pheasants who respond to the call of duty first. Pheasants are not renowned for their musical ability, but their sharp clucks act like a conductor tapping his baton, bringing everyone to attention. Maybe roosting up in the Oaks gives them a slight height advantage over the birds’ in lower cover. Robins are next to fire up, followed by the Song Thrush, then the Blackbirds. Within minutes bird song pours from every tree and bush reaching a cacophony of sound that makes it difficult to identify individual performers.
As the season progresses, the list of performers grows, including the migrants returning to share our Summer.

In the Swedish language, there is one particular word that I’ve taken a shine to.
That word is smultronstalle, it means favourite place. Smaltronstallen can be anywhere one likes; they are places where one feels content, safe, and happy.
I’ve got several smaltronstallen dotted around the place; I’ve even got one in my head.
When the chance arises, find your smaltronstalle, and spend a little time there, and grab a freebie or two.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

•