Wednesday, August 13

Nails and herons

The storm left the homestead bird-free, a no-fly zone, so yesterday afternoon I took off across the moor to try out my new Swarovski glasses (birthday present from the Boss). It too was quiet. Just the familiar sight and sound of juvenile stonechats with their pink bibs and snowy, mottled down. An occasional furtive wheatear (John Grieve again). ‘Just,’ I say. There was a time I was pathetically grateful to catch sight of a sparrow in a neighbour’s garden. I also came across the grey heron that’s taken up with a meandering stretch below the Brockhill Mire. Wind and rain kept the walkers away and I had the place to myself, time to sit and appreciate my surrounding – soak it in (literally). I could also use new waterproofs. It’s a long way from the sour smell of a Halesowen nail shop.

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