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It's April already!

Daddy Woodpecker fetching baby for his dinner on my feeders.

It's April, already, where did the past few months go? I had forgotten this blog and started another, I have so many blogs I have forgotten the password to, I reckon they all sit in a holding area, bit like a Lost Blog Office, all waiting for their owners to pick them up and add to again.  Poor forlorn blogs, I hope to not lose this one.

We have been busy, I haven't been crafting as much as i like, mainly my illness, a lot of sloth and I have been distracted by my Harp. Mr. T, wonderful man that he is, bought me a harp for my 60th birthday. I have a violin and a saxophone, but as my illness weakens my neck muscles and lungs, my wrists and fingers get still, making music on these becomes more and more painful and difficult. I love making music, it isn't perfect, I am no maestro, but there is something so very relaxing about making tunes. So, he went out and got me a Celtic Lap Harp, to be honest you would need a very large lap to hold it, it isn too big for a lap, too small for freestanding, so I prop it up on a footstool, lean it into my shoulder and play away.  A harp just relies on you being able to pluck out a tune and off you go.  I make a lot up, I sit like Yoko Ono plucking away and singing made up Japanese nonsense.  The cat hates it, the dogs just leave the room, but, oddly enough, the pheasants love it and come into the garden, sit under the window and make pheasant noises.  They might be yelling, shut the F up, in pheasant speak. Either way, they flock like groupies to sit under the window.

There are few male pheasants left after the shoots last year, I see them having little fights over the females. They bash their chests together, go through some weird stand off dance until one is the winner and the loser goes to find a new field to rule over. It is fascinating, they are truly beautiful birds, but truly stupid too. They are also trying to woo my hens, the roosters aren't too happy, there is enough rooster testosterone floating about to float a navy, they don't need anymore competition from a showy pheasant.  The hens ignore them, unless they have a snail, which is hen world equivalent of a diamond. It is fascinating to watch the pecking order, but right now at 4 in the morning, noisy as hell. All the cock a doodle do'ing is cock a doodle doing my head in.

Now is time for a cup of tea, a time to go outside in my coat and watch the world wake up, I love waiting for the sunrise, would rather be asleep, but insomnia has some advantages. I get to see the swans glide by as they make their way to the nearby loch.  The glide by, about 40 of them, making the occasional honk and float across the sky, about 10 feet off the ground looking super cool and a bit spooky. Till next time ...

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Mister, Van Gough and Gabrielle who was bitten by a rabid dog.

This is The Mister cat, he woke me this morning by doing a four footed splat onto my chest, when he does this I am never sure if I am either having a heart attack or Mr T has pounced on me while I sleep. The first is possible, the latter not so much, he sleeps like no one else I know.

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