Saturday, February 11, 2017
They almost looked as though they had been embroidered on to the garden.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw what resembled giant sparrows in the graveyard yesterday; one of them hopped up on to a weather-worn gravestone from the grey winter grass, and sure enough, it belonged to another small flock of redwings that had probably floated in on the cold February winds from Scandinavia.
What a beautiful sight, and echoing such a similar personal situation; maybe they are magical messages of hope. Or maybe they are just pretty birds.