birds

There is the first sense of spring despite the winter cold.  The rowan has a fuzz on its twiglets which will become the wonderful pink glory I saw last year.  And the cherry plums, although despised for their mess, are exquisite with blossom already.

I am best pleased by the forget-me nots that I planted at the base of the snowball tree.  They are just starting to flower and I hope for a blue mist in a week or two.

I have begun to count all the birds who visit and have collected pictures of the honey eaters I have seen.

As well as an olive whistler and the unstoppable wattle birds.

So its a day of small hope. A treasure to be held lightly and with joy.