Website of poet Elizabeth Rimmer

The Week the Wind Changed

May EveningAir quivers with rain.
The Ochils hide behind
walls of new leaves.

Since that evening, the rain has stopped, the sun has come out, and the forecast for the week says gardening.

There is much more green about. A nest full of starlings fledged while I was hanging out the washing. I could hear a lot of noise from the telegraph wire and noticed two adults apparently shouting “Jump!” into the tall cedar tree where they (and almost every other bird in Stirling, including some magpies) nest. And then the baby birds jumped, with a desperate flap and flutter that sudenly gained smoothness and accuracy as they realised what wings were for, landing beside their parents and immediately demanding a reward.
I don’t know how so many birds survive the proximity of the magpies. Maybe they are maligned. The next time there was a racket from the nesting tree it was mostly the magpies who were making it, although every bird in the garden joined in, chasing off a very large crow.

All the fruit bushes are in blossom, and there are berries setting on the gooseberries and strawberries.

The greenhouse is mostly doing well, but these tomato plants look extremely odd. Does anyone know what’s going on here?

May Evening






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