Monday April 15th 2019

Thomas Hardy's short poem "I watched a blackbird" seems very apt today. For this afternoon I did watch a blackbird in Easter week

I watched a blackbird on a budding sycamore

One Easter Day, when sap was stirring twigs to the core;

I saw his tongue, and crocus-coloured bill

Parting and closing as he turned his trill;

Then he flew down, seized on a stem of hay,

And upped to where his building scheme was under way,

As if so sure a nest were never shaped on spray.

Soon however I'll not be able to watching particular blackbird on this particular tree. As despite protests and gnashing of teeth, these ornamental maples, there are four of them,  are soon to come down as a new accessibility ramp is built on site. Even my wheelchair colleagues are aghast at the tree removal. But that's progress. There will be other perches, yet for many years now I've listened to blackbirds singing in these trees. On dark winter evenings especially their plaintif contact calls have enriched a tramp across the car park to buy my cup of tea. It may not be a budding sycamore, but as a close relative, farewell maple, farewell blackbird, farewell smokers. 

Oh I forgot to say, today is the first day the smoking area at work has moved to a small bus shelter in the car park. This hasn't gone down well in some quarters. At least thought the blackbird isn't passive smoking as it sings, as until today the smoking area was under these trees!