Fleeting Moments

The duvet once again held me in its thrall until after 10.30am and, by the time the tramadol kicked in against the aching spasm in my lower limbs, I’d decided to venture down to open church for a coffee. As I drew back the curtain, my plans suddenly changed; the vision of pelting wind-driven rain did nothing to encourage me to pursue the notion of trekking down the road. I donned my (supposedly) waterproofs anyway, to tend to the needs of our avian garden visitors, rapidly replenishing both ground and elevated feeder trays with a variety of suet pellets. This act of mercy was followed by my swift retreat back into the house.

By the time it took for me to wash up a few glasses, a couple of mugs, and cereal dishes, that generous suet offering had completely disappeared. Amazing how quickly the word passes around our feathered friends. At least I could still sit and watch the birds on the hanging seed and fat ball feeders.
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