Last night the birds were singing so serenely. It was the most beautiful sound as I dozed whilst reading a book. It was just me and the birds. A particularly romantic blackbird serenaded me through the bedroom window. I closed my eyes and savoured the moment.
Driving through Leicestershire's countryside every other day means I see both the dawn breaking and the earth closing down. I see the birds flickering over the deep blue morning sky, and the warm golden first light warms my arms as they rest on the door of the car.
But I also see some not so nice images. Tyre marks churn up the ground and fly tippers leave shopping trolleys full of gunk at the side of the road. There's bins overflowing and recycling boxes empty, empty buses and tonnes of cars. Then there's the roadkill. Oh! the roadkill. Foxes with their faces in a frozen moment of agony, a badger bending back on itself, birds with their fanned wings covered in red. Even the stoats and mice that clutter the road make me feel a little queasy.
As I turn from the A46 to the Thurssington road there's a moment of calm as I adjust the car to new driving conditions and then, if i'm lucky, I see the Peacock which lives in one of the larger country houses at the top of the road. It takes its time and waltzes, its crushendo of coloured feathers dragging at the back, and it's bluey greeny shiny head upright.
Then, as I washed the pots this evening, I thought I felt my old cat walk in between my legs. It wasn't though.
Driving through Leicestershire's countryside every other day means I see both the dawn breaking and the earth closing down. I see the birds flickering over the deep blue morning sky, and the warm golden first light warms my arms as they rest on the door of the car.
But I also see some not so nice images. Tyre marks churn up the ground and fly tippers leave shopping trolleys full of gunk at the side of the road. There's bins overflowing and recycling boxes empty, empty buses and tonnes of cars. Then there's the roadkill. Oh! the roadkill. Foxes with their faces in a frozen moment of agony, a badger bending back on itself, birds with their fanned wings covered in red. Even the stoats and mice that clutter the road make me feel a little queasy.
As I turn from the A46 to the Thurssington road there's a moment of calm as I adjust the car to new driving conditions and then, if i'm lucky, I see the Peacock which lives in one of the larger country houses at the top of the road. It takes its time and waltzes, its crushendo of coloured feathers dragging at the back, and it's bluey greeny shiny head upright.
Then, as I washed the pots this evening, I thought I felt my old cat walk in between my legs. It wasn't though.
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