Seagull news

It’s dawn on Saturday morning. The first splashes of pink are spreading across a grey-ish blue sky. Outside, the young seagull I’ve been watching since he first stuck his head up above his nest is marching up and down the roof and yelling his frustration because he’s extending his wings and trying to fly, but his flight feathers haven’t grown any more than they had the last time he checked them five minutes ago. That’s a shame because he wants to soar like the other seagulls do and they don’t grow any faster no matter how much he shouts or how often he flexes them. I think there’s a lesson for me there, but I don’t find it any easier to learn than he does.

As his mother (or father, I don’t know which and I don’t suppose it matters unless you’re another seagull) comes in to feed him, they look weary as they perch on top of the chimney pot. I can imagine them feeling a bit frustrated because it is such hard work being adult and mature and a parent. That feels as if it ought to be a metaphor for life too, but I believe in fiddling the odds wherever I can so imagine the brief pause there’s been while I sneaked out to top up the dish of mealworms I’ve put on the wall for them.

It’s been an official heatwave for four out of the last six weeks, and I know we have nothing compared to hot countries, but what we also don’t have is air conditioning. I miss being able to walk for long distances without risking sunburn or heat exhaustion. I miss it being comfortable to sit outdoors, and I miss the green colours as so much of the world changes to yellow brown. But at least my garden’s still green and it’s lovely in the early morning and late evening.

I have loved watching the butterflies and moths landing to drink from all three of my wildlife ponds, which are doing amazingly well for their first year. To the uninitiated, they’re big plant pots, but I have dragonflies and butterflies and bees and moths. I have bats at dusk, swooping down and around like an aerial display team, just for me. The forecasters say it’s cooling down, and I can believe it now as I feel a cool wind on my face.

Mostly, though I am feeling, as I always do when my world constricts, which is grateful for the small details in life. For the quiet of an early morning. For my garden, and my daughter who waters it. For my home, which is increasingly looking the way I want it to. For our lovely delivery guys who make so much possible and will be bringing more ice cream and cold food in a few hours’ time. For knowing that the Harbour is there waiting for me when it cools down and for the seagulls, For being able to sneak outside to take pictures of dawn and feel the relatively cool 18c.

Here’s what I saw, and now I’m down to work as I get to an exciting bit in the second of next year’s Windy Bay books. It’s going to be called ‘By the Book’ and my heroine, having dedicated herself to soft, slow living where she enjoys all the details and gets away from people who enjoy judging her and putting her down, has just realised that you can’t get away from some people. Sometimes, you have to stand your ground and fight for what you love and believe in. I just hope you don’t have to do it all the time! Have a good week, and see you on Tuesday, God willing.

Mama I(or Papa) Swagull, watching her cross child from a safe distance, which is always best in my opinion!

My little green oasis in the cool of the dawn, with wildlife pot and washing line because life can't be all romance, can it?