Wednesday 25 November
It is my dad’s birthday today. He’s 89 and already looking forward to next year’s big 9-0. I went round to see him on my way home from work this evening. He’s anticipating his Covid test on Sunday and his procedure next week to put in a stent to his oesophagus.
Sadly, I couldn’t share a glass of wine or piece of cake with him due to the cancer. Worst of all, I couldn’t give him a hug as fear of Covid19 is too high. But he was able to open his cards and try on his new cardigan. Big smiles but he seemed tired.
Driving in to work this morning I was aware of the range of shades and textures there are in the fields and natural world.
These subtle observations are really important to me at this time of year. The shortened hours of daylight mean that walks are greatly reduced and just getting outdoors is impossible. So, the journey to work is my only real opportunity to take a look at the world around me. By the time I leave, it’s pitch dark.
The fields this morning looked like a crushed layer of chocolate-lime sweets. A crumbling crystalised sheet of green and brown, in depths of contrast, and with textures to match. I want to run my palm over it all, but can’t.
And texture, I’ve noticed, is more important to me in the more dormant seasons. Vegetation has died back or fallen to the ground, giving access to bark and branches, leaf litter and mosses.
The Bald Birder 