Reflections in black
They've refilled the pond in Benmore Gardens - the new open season must be upon us. It's lain black and muddy for months, the new bridge in the process of construction, the fountain silent and covered in a plastic wrapping. Late this afternoon when we passed, it lay dark and still, the water unnaturally clean, the reflections of the still-bare trees as yet undisturbed by any ripple from the fountain. The birds were singing all over the garden - we could hear the sound in layers, as it were, depending on their distance from us.
As we headed for the gate, we heard the unmistakable sound of a woodpecker, and for once I was able to see two of them near the top of a tall tree right above my head - a flash of red, the black and white, the creeping motion on the tree trunk. It felt totally satisfying as the end to a walk.
But I do worry that all that drumming might give them a headache ...