I can’t write about nature with any lyricism at all; no great metaphors or similes, no amazing analogies or descriptions. I just spent ten minutes, maybe fifteen, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee looking out to the garden. I saw a lot of birds, the little yellow tits are my favourite, but the bullfinch has come back again, which is great to see. As has the robins, who never really leave. They seem to be there year round.
I was struck there by the variety of green. The big tree is bare obviously and the others next to it but the amount of green is really quite astounding. The variety of shades is amazing, even just in the grass itself, which is quite poor. The lightness of the conifers contrast the darkness of the holly bush on the other side. The grey-green of the bush next to them stands out against the grass as its healthiest, which is at the point right in front of the bush. If there is any metaphor to be made maybe it is that it reflects society. Here is one colour in my garden, and there is so many different kinds of it; maybe we should be looking more at the nuances and celebrating them.