You rang, mallard?
Early mornings are fairly routine for me. Molly, my faithful cat, wakes me at about 6:00 a.m., demands her food, ignores it and goes out for some fresh air. I feed myself, feed the birds and then prepare my self for the day.
Over the last 5-6 weeks, however, there have been two significant additions to the early-morning rituals. The first is this blog, most of which is a set of reflections on writing already published. Curiously, it's rather like dusting the house before settling down to read or write. It makes me feel that things are in order and brings some of life's positives into sharper focus.
The other change is the arrival of a small band of mallards as soon as I open the wooden shutters on my bedroom window. They leap up from the side of Wycoller Beck or launch themselves off from the small mound of a village green and demand to be fed. "Why do ducks suddenly appear … ?" I've no idea but it makes me feel more integrated into my surroundings and drives away any brooding shadows, lurking in the aftermath of unconscious night thoughts.
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