A greenfinch pecks at a sycamore bud, discarding the outer scales.Our front lawn is in need of a spring make-over. I trim it, rake it and spike it with a garden fork. It probably needs a sprinkling of grass seeds, some sharp sand and a barrow-load of sieved compost spread over it.
In just one quarter of it I rake up a bag-load of moss. I'm taking this to the compost bin when I surprise a female blackbird. She's probing under an overhang of the heap which the hens have probably excavated so she doesn't see me arrive. There's a splutter of indignant alarm as she realises I'm standing there, then she flies off over the hedge.
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