Today, Saturday, I decided to empty part of the compost bin, as you empty from below, the sight of a wriggling thousand worm strong mat is not for the squeamish. But as I tackled this writhing knot a young thrush ran round the garden as I worked. It was beautiful, pale brown, its chest skimmed with spots and a little ruff of baby feathers caught behind its wings. Time passed and it had still not flown, so starting to worry I tried to shoo it into the air but it wasn't going anywhere, and in this garden where cats are daily to be seen - what to do?
So I sat on the lawn with him, it was very tame, and fed him breadcrumbs, till an adult blackbird came down, bullied him over the crumbs and then flew off. A moment of magic happened, the young bird had a 'light bulb' moment, ran across the lawn, jumped up onto a chair after the adult bird and then to the fence and flew away, nature or nurture I don't know but safety for a few more hours.
Watching handmade whilst I spun the other day, no words just action, as the person went through the making of a Windsor chair, made me look at my chair, which I sit in every day in front of the computer. As someone who can do woodwork, the machinery and the work is very familiar, the point of a good chair is that glue is hardly used, just dowelling and fitting the struts into corresponding holes in the framework, bracing in other words. It makes you remember all the medieval timber built barns and houses, when nails were hardly used.
My chair I love dearly, it has cushions for comfort, and is rather low to the floor but it is comfortable and would probably be the first thing I would save in case of fire..... And yes I do not know his name WHB, but like to think of him as William, Henry Bennett.