When our human world has been turned upside down, there is comfort in the continuity of the natural world. The sun still sets; the gulls still fly down the estuary to roost in the Bay; the coming of Spring is marked by the song of the blackbirds, the flowering of celandines and wild daffodils, and the onomatopoeic song of the arriving chiffchaffs.
Dr T and I had two walks, a short one around the boardwalks of Foulshaw Moss where the trilling of redpolls followed us, and we were treated to, what was for me, the rare song of the stonechat. Then in the afternoon a longer walk over the Knott and around the coast, on a warm and sunny Spring day, stopping to watch one of the finest sunsets of the year so far. We left Gus at home with Wifie, the walk is too long for him now.
I've been away from blipping for a while, we were over in Yorkshire for a few days without internet, though not beyond receipt of fast-moving news. Then it was back home and Dr T arrived from South Wales, we both considered cancellation, but the risks were low, and the companionship was needed as we adjust to more distant and virtual contact with our friends and family. I shall fill in a few of the gaps at least, I am trying to take a few photographs every day, and shall continue to do so as events unfold in the months ahead. We have the comfort here of being able to get out for walks and to the garden and allotment - the continuity of the natural world is essential grounding for us.
I shall catch up with my blip friends in the next few days. In the meantime, stay safe.
Back blipped on 20 March, the view down the Kent estuary from New Barns Bay when the air was still and the water reflecting. Shortly afterwards a breeze picked up and ruffled the water, and there followed a beautiful bright sunset.