My attention is drawn to Marcelle's spruce tree by a robin duelling mellifluously with another in the ash across the road.
Two tiny, enamelled goldcrests are flickering among the branches.
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Up the road or down, sometimes further afield, often not for long, we're out most days.
1 comment:
I don't know what a goldcrest looks like, but I imagine -- from your word enamelled -- that it is green and gold?
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