Seasonal schizophrenia

A Saturday mid-afternoon visit to Hanson Environmental Study Centre brought neither the hoped-for Swifts or an ode of any sort (dragons or damsels, as opposed to saucy limericks or rhyming couplets). A bitter wind continued to blow from the north west, the last vestiges of Winter spitefully hanging on, as if to taunt the land for its hope of a warm and pleasant Spring.

The lake was rather sparsely populated by a meagre assortment of wildfowl, though a growing throng of warblers were singing from the reedbeds, scrub and trees surrounding the water. The sky was either dark with heavy showers, or brightly lit with an assortment of sun-drenched fluffy clouds, like non-identical twins jostling for control of the heavens in a meteorological overture of alternating themes.

The Cowslips were having no truck with this indecision and duality, choosing instead to throw their all into a fecund explosion of colour.

We returned home to discover a pair of Mallard sat on the lawn, in a leisurely repose, following their feeding frenzy amongst the aquatic plants of the Tense Towers pond. The air was laden  with rhyming couplets, most of which featured the word 'duck'.