Digital Artwork...

Pouring with rain when I woke up.
No  Midnight on the swing this morning, so I was momentarily panicking, because he is always there at that time.

I go out with food and dishes, and Midnight emerges from under the large wooden swing. There is some tarpaulin under there covering some stuff. It was colder as well as wet last night.

There was obviously another cat hovering in the undergrowth, because Midnight kept looking. It might have been Jade, but I could see nothing. So I put another double bowl of cat food in the undergrowth. It had vanished next time I looked.

Yesterday, Midnight never left my side, or garden, all day. He was either on my coir mats by my feet as I was working at my makeshift desk at my bedroom door. Or he was on the ledge of the swing (barely an arms length away from me) watching me work on my devices, or writing postcards and letters. 

Then when I was working on my raised bed (as in on old garden chairs) vegetable garden, he got back on the feather cushion on the thatched swing (but as you probably remember, the blackbirds stole the thatch to make their nests, so it is tarpaulin covered now, with camouflage netting on it...looks odd, but is totally waterproof...), and Midnight settled down to a relaxing chilled out sleep. Each time I passed him he opened his eyes, chirruped, so I scritched his head. I was wearing protective gardening gloves after my hand swelled the other day, although it was an insect bite, but Midnight wasn't fazed by this large object descending on his head. He knew it was a part of me.

Then he went in a deep relaxed sleep, except his eye opened for a tiny peek to check it was me passing him. This is the first time he has not got off the swing and run up the garden when I have walked past him. 

The Bluetit family are still coming in two halves, that is Dad with one baby bluetit, then he leaves, and mum comes in with the other two babies. Dad has a different kind of parenting to Mum Bluetit. He flies in, calls baby. Baby Bluetit comes in, and he feeds the baby from the fatballs. Then he flies away, leaving the baby in his charge alone in the garden. The baby feeds off different feeders, does a bit of investigating, gets into a couple of scrapes, then finally flies out of the garden. Mum Bluetit, by comparison, ushers the two babies in her charge into the garden to her favoured fatball feeder. The two baby bluetits sit obediently on the branch to be fed by Mum Bluetit. They want to feed themselves on the feeders, but Mum insists they stay on the branch, until the banshee Mr Blackbird sweeps through them, uttering his terrible cries. Whereupon the two baby bluetits flee into the bushy leaves, and Mum proceeds to carry on feeding them in the leaves. Then Mum and babies leave together.

Mr Blackbird lost his temper badly yesterday. The GreatTit and his two babies had come to the newer fatball feeder I had put up for them, and when they left, Mr Blackbird came in and viciously attacked that fatball feeder. He was not feeding but furiously emptying the feeder of the fatballs. 

Sigh...

He is not a normal male blackbird.

Little Miss (teenage sparrow extraordinaire) keeps popping in, but I do not know what her latest project is...

Ravens are flying overhead, seagulls are swirling. Mr Blackbird is doing his screeching flypasts. 

And higher up in the sky, stranger birds (to this garden), are going about their business, some in twos, some singly, some slow, some ambling, some at the speed of a bullet train, but all appear to have an apparent purpose in mind. 

The buzzards haven't arrived yet, but they 'play' in the thermals from the steelworks.

Creative this morning is a digital painting of mine put in Tiny Planets and fartnarkled a bit. And a few silhouettes...

Time for a nap. I woke up too early, 3:30, just in time to see Mr Blackbird start his flypasts.

A nice hot cuppa first, I think...


About the Blipfoto subscription. When I renewed, the system flagged me up as a basic user, and won't acknowledge I have paid. So the Blip people are waiting for their techie to sort it out.