Points of Light

Written in February 2023 for 'Perspectives of Nature'

9th February 8:15 – 8:25 a.m.

Cold at 2°C.

No wind today and the grasses are as still as the leaves as still as the stones. High above the garden, bluetits and chaffinches dominate the ebb and flow of bright sounds. Below, sparrows scavenge the ivy logs and the blackbird tips the leaf litter. Behind everything, a churning monotone of traffic lines our ears. Ceaseless and integral to our urban lives, we absorb it as fully as the chill in the air.


10th  February 8:10 – 8:20 a.m.

Warmer today, at 3°C.

From within the hedge, a solitary sparrow calls his siblings. A breeze sweeps the garden, flickering the bamboo. Aging cherries, cracked and ivy-bound, stand static. Behind them, the squatting hazel weaves gracelessly from side to side. Cloud thickens, wind picks up, the single sparrow calls again.


11th February 8:20 – 8:30 a.m.

6°C and birds are louder; blackbird, pigeon, bluetit, wren.

Cutting across the cloud cover, a crow arrives, strutting the branch of the wild cherry and tilting his eye to the ferns below. Beginnings of blue spread across the sky as the squirrel leaps the conifers. Hawthorn buds shine out like so many points of light and a quiet joy rises from the damp earth.