The return of the bats

Blossom, equinox and ravens.

The view from my bedroom changes; white plum blossom and white skies and fat pigeons sitting on the black branches pecking at tight buds. They like them, but they can never defeat them. I am not fond of pigeons because their unending desire for kale (of all things), which is in far more limited supply that blossom in the garden, but they don’t annoy me like the song thrush, who took up shouting his favourite phrase, ‘c’mere, ‘c’mere ‘c’mere’ followed by eight piercing whistles and a series of cheeps at about half five this morning. I’m not sure why they call them song thrushes; all he does is steal a little fragment of someone else’s work and shout it unendingly at my sleepless ears. Why are there not song blackbirds, or song robins? Why does the thrush who seems, to me, useless in comparison, get the qualifier song in its name? If there’s a silent thrush, I much prefer it.

Equilux passes, when day and night are equal, and then the vernal equinox, and someone on social media greets me with ‘happy first day of spring!’ as if spring has a starting date, as if the darling buds of may were not laid down last autumn, as if spring had not been springing in increasing intensity for at least a month. Everyone has a different starting day anyway, I muse, as I walk past the chestnut trees, still immersed in their winter slumber, more sensitive than the endlessly frothing blackthorn. Nature doesn’t pay attention to calendars; sometimes in April I swim in the sea, and sometimes it’s snowing and the swallows sit on the telephone wires cold and miserable, like disillusioned tourists. I am hoping for a sea April this year.

My heart sinks as I walk past the paddocks; the mud on the path is starting to finally firm up but it is too late; the horses are gone, abandoning the large puddle edged with strange primordial ooze. Maybe the grass will grow long, and my toad army will grow strong among it, perhaps adding snakes to its ranks; insects will come, and more bats to eat them. Perhaps it will be ok.

The lake is still bloated and muddied by the heavy rainfall; the Egyptian geese (or funk ducks as my son dubs them), whose large brood I had hoped to photograph, are elsewhere, so I hurry past. Later, I will slip out at night, lured out by the clear skies and near full moon. I will hunt for bats, though it’s still too early for the pipestrelles to return to the summer roosts; in their silence I will detect the static myotis crackling of the Daubenton’s bats. They were not here the last time I checked, and if I were to rely on my eyes, I wouldn’t have noticed. Even knowing they are there, I strain to see them, the same colour as the inky depths, a shadow flickering a whiskers breadth above the waters surface.

In my daytime walk, I stop to admire some blossom, and find a good, red larch rose that pleases me immensely as I reach the wood. I am sure that last time I looked the floor of the woods was bare but for the smallest of green leaves, but today it is carpeted in thick emerald studded with the very first splash of blue; April is bluebell month in these parts, a delight to behold. Spring is a symphpony, a gathering of the small and beautiful, each playing out into a complex whole; every year the song is a little different, even if the instruments are the same. What matters, what really matters, is it’s definitely here, heralding summer, when the living is easy, and that’s something to look forward to.

Workings

This week I have listed my hare in the shop, it’s a very affordable and non fattening Easter gift to buy yourself (it might not arrive in time for Easter … well, not this Easter anyway). I’m thinking of putting all my prices up substantially (cost of living, etc) so now is a great time to pick something up.

I’ve also been working on carving the raven sketch I showed you a few weeks ago. I hope for it to be part of a much bigger piece but I think I might make some smaller prints of it too, though I’m undecided whether that’s a good idea or not. It’s coming along quite well.

Here’s a bonus picture of the plate the hare printed from:

Wildly different from lino carving.

Findings

As is common after a sudden influx of new subscribers (hello!) my weekly offering is seems mediocre, this post is one of my favourites though.

As I’ve been carving I have listened only to Otherlands by Thomas Halliday, an interesting look into various prehistoric landscapes, and the new track by Cosmo Sheldrake, a ‘catchy tune about nonduality’ as one commenter remarked. Top marks or mentioning ‘pataphysics, and a fine array of jumpers too.

Next week (I think) is Easter and I will be taking a couple of weeks off for the holidays, so I’ll see you after that x