Set free in a loose garden

We inhaled the scent of herbs on the soft balmy air. Occasional yelps of joy bounced across the lake as youngsters leapt into the water from the dodgy bough that leans out over the deeper water. 

The Irish feel such deep relaxation in our bodies when the temperatures soar. So we are elated by this evening, warm enough to sit outside under the sky, warm enough to put our feet up, one where we can get the grill out. 

I love your "loose garden" she said.  And loose is a good word for it. 

Loose enough to sway in the breeze, loose enough to shed colourful seeds everywhere, to create dingly dells of stems and blossoms. 

If I were a thrush I too would want to be set free, in a loose garden......

More wild places here

Breakfast with a leveret and a pair of thrushes

Our young hare or leveret

One thrush stands guard

A small nap during breakfast

First shot of the thrush sitting on her nest

Every morning the young writer and myself have breakfast with the current neighbours. We enjoy watching the leveret, now weaned and left to his own devices. We used to joke about making a pet of him, especially my other half who secretly left carrots out for him!! Today the young writer remarked that he really is a pet already and you will see from his mid breakfast snooze that he is quite at home here in front of the kitchen window! 

This morning was especially exciting as for the first time a pair of thrushes have taken up residence in our bay tree. We have been watching them setting up home, one stands guard while the other works hard flitting backwards and forwards...too fast to capture.

Today I realised that I can see right into the nest.  If I get down on the kitchen floor, and use my longest zoom lens I can see her outline just sitting there. This is the very first blurry photo taken just now.......look very closely........ 

But sadly I have no time to linger and must get to work. Hopefully there will be more photos to follow! 

~Just a moment on the road to the mountain~

I wandered off the route and instead drove towards the Comeraghs. Now I was going to be late. But at least I was living dangerously!

On the boreen I caught a glimpse of the mountain through a gate. The bright morning drew me up through the rise of the land and the cloud skimming the ridge. The occasional grinding mechanism of the lens and my own breathing behind the camera gradually settled my racing mind.

While focussing on the willow hedgerows woven with catkins, I heard her. The song began in bursts with pauses in between. We both waited in the stillness, and every thought of time wasting or even of strategies for change and improvement, abandoned me.

A mate joined her and the blurring began. Just a moment on the road to the mountain and I was back on the right road.