Times are a changin'

Easter Down 7.00am February 6th

Easter Down 7.00am February 6th

In more ways than one. 

Today, at 7am as I rushed to feed the animals, I noticed something profound. Something, that should not be a jolt or a stark realisation, but something that ebbs. But no, it was a jolt. To stop and observe.  Rather than head back to the house through the cloying morass of Chives, and wrestle with the broken rusty gate, I decided to walk back via the road. The thinking was, that with torrential rain last night, 11mm of stair rods, the storm drain would most likely be blocked and the run off would be shooting down the road causing sediment and grit to scatter liberally down by the shed. Off I chipped, stout boots, a strong strut, drain was fine, I turned in right onto the farm lane, and up into the parking area for the Nap. Below was the lake, looking black and Slitherin like. The ducks were flapping and joshing, what a bunch of yobbos...But looking up the steep field of Easter Down, or roadside as it used to known (by dint of the fact that it was the field by the road) I saw the sheep scattered across the horizon. The colours were a muted white and green, but with monochrome filter, the contrast turned to 1. Clambered over the gate, dogs told to be calm and off I trot. As I turned to look at the valley, I realised I could see. My torch was on, but I didn’t need it. It was light. All those days of it getting lighter by 1minute now became the sum of the parts. There below me was a blanket of mist, oozing down the Mole Valley, being pushed out by some marching glacier. It was so still, so monochrome, but the depth of field was intense and then I noticed, the stillness was being peppered by cheer. Birdsong everywhere, the early morning chorus was so beautiful. It wasn’t like the cacophony of April, it was more sedate.

A selection of birds, yawning, waking up and offering up their pleasantries. 

'Good morning Robin’, 

'Morning Blackbird’, 

'Hello Nuthatch, sleep well?’ 

'I did, young Coal tit, excellent snooze''

Woody, how about you?’

'Blimey mate, it was well wet were’n it?' (for some reason I imagine our woodpecker is from the EastEnd)
I took a pic, even thought about taking a video to keep that gentle song locked for posterity, but it would never have done the moment justice. 
Sometimes, it's best to drink in the moment and savour it. 
And maybe share it too….!