Swinger of birches

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Robert Frost, 'Birches'

This crow performs every day in one of the tallest birches outside our office. He gets as high as he can until the leading shoot begins to bend over, then he caws loudly to whoever may be listening. This was taken from the office through a curtain of birch twigs out of focus in the foreground.

The frosty weather gave way to another Atlantic depression bringing warm air and rain. After days when the office was below comfortable temperature, suddenly the heating kicked into life and it was uncomfortably hot.

Another session at the Climbing Wall this evening, and some slight improvement again on my part. The others are romping away though.

A year ago: another somewhat impressionistic shot, the Fleeting Hare.