Nature’s Valentines

We are experiencing some cold weather here in Shropshire but, although it is still technically winter, there are signs of change. I went on a course the other day to identify trees in winter and it was amazing that, despite the frosts and snow, some of the trees are already bud bursting. Even in the garden, there are those little signs. Throughout the winter, we have had two Robins residing on either side of our garden. One on the right and one on the left 😉

Yesterday, I spotted them both together on a branch. Meanwhile, we have also had a single Dunnock throughout the winter months. Yesterday, I saw the one had been joined by another and he was sitting up in the tree singing the most beautiful song. For such a plain bird, they have a wonderful tune.

Our gregarious Long Tailed Tits are still paying a visit to the garden especially on the colder, frosty days.

As I was walking through the snow yesterday, I also heard two birds flying through the Hawthorne, calling to each other sounding almost like a plaintive mobile phone. It was a sound that was unfamiliar to me, I think I could also do with a course on birdsong.

Despite the snow, the first signs of Spring are hidden in sheltered corners.

In our garden, the first flowers are the Iris with that gorgeous splash of colour to soothe tired winter eyes.

Along the hedgerows and in the woodland we also have the most beautiful of our early flowers in the UK. The Snowdrop. The first signs of Spring are held in the soft petals of in this tiny delicate flower.

TO A SNOWDROP

LONE Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they
But hardier far, once more I see thee bend
Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend,
Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day,
Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay
The rising sun, and on the plains descend;
Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend
Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May
Shall soon behold this border thickly set
With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing
On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers;
Nor will I then thy modest grace forget,
Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring,
And pensive monitor of fleeting years!

William Wordsworth