Bud burst

Today was the day the trees came into leaf. Not the oak – although there are few of them around – but the hawthorn, the alder, the birch, and even the late-leafing ash. On the canal, geese, and a couple of mallards – lonesome males. The geese were not barking at each other, as they usually do, but miaowing; maybe a miaow is more comforting to unhatched chicks.

Following the sun

Where the canal broadens out, a large flock of Canada Geese float on the water. A heron, hunched on a low-hanging alder branch, turns his back on them. Cock robins, pert and handsome, stake out their territories in the hawthorn hedge. They count me out along the towpath, and count me back in again – I might be up to no good. Stealing crab apples, perhaps, or gathering in holly for a Christmas wreath.

As I turn for home the geese take off, in groups of twenty or more, yapping and barking. They are following the last of the day’s sunlight, heading for the mill lodge hidden behind the hill.