The Sunday before Monday begins

I'm not a big bird fan. I'll admit that right out. Birds, especially seagulls, give me the slight creeps. But sometimes they really are lovely. Yesterday I had a moment with a Red Breasted Robin who came to investigate the wood lice I'd uncovered in my wood chopping. For 10 minutes I stood as still as possible, one foot going numb, precariously leaning on the axe while this little inquisitive bird hopped around, from the tree to the rock, to a closer tree, darting in to look at the logs then scooting off to safety. He came to about 1 metre away, not at all bothered by me or the cat who was also just watching, but then decided to wait until I'd stopped swinging a sharp heavy lump of metal around.

Today the clouds are closing in. Yesterday's beautifosity has gone, and we're left with some good ole winter gloom. But the birds don't care. From a distance, seagulls can be elegant, with their swooping and playing in the updrafts. They soar over us all, apparently out to enjoy whatever the weather may bring their way.