April: Early Morning

Boyo the dog was pacing round the bed at 6 am, waking me gently with his steady tap dance on the floorboards, and clanging his tail joyfully against the radiator. He was clearly keen to go out, so I grabbed G’s old dressing gown and my Primark “ Ugg” boots and we ventured outside.

It was a beautiful morning again. A sharp frost overnight had left the sleepers around the raised borders white. I think it’s a cold corner so will watch what I plant there.

Boyo strolled off down towards the pond. He still does the circuit of the whole garden but it takes him longer now. A gentle plod with lots of sniffing. I stood out on the gravel for as long as I could before the cold got to me. It was one of those mornings when you get thick deep resonant layers of birdsong. It feels like a plum pudding; layers of richness and a variety of flavours. The more you listen, the deeper the sound becomes.

It begins with the blackbirds and thrushes, the loudest and most tuneful, nearby. Then as your ears become attuned the whole mass of smaller birds fill the gaps in the thrush’s song. A hundred birds in all directions, then further away fainter calls; pigeons, woodpeckers pecking and yaffling, and later in May the cuckoos. Such a powerful uplifting song, such variety and a fitting greeting for the new day. How fantastic to just wake up and sing. The song doesn’t matter. It’s the singing, the doing of it.

Now it’s quite light. 7.11 am, clear blue skies and bright sunshine. The birds are still calling, but individual songs and they are busy eating seed under the impossible tree. We watched a female blackbird carrying lengths of ivy stems we’d cut when weeding, and diving into the hedge to start her nest. The birds are in a rush at this time of year. Plenty to do. Now I must do the ironing and get it out of the way so there’s time to get on with more interesting stuff.