Thinking of all my friends as we approach the end of the Great Hunkering. See you soon!

First in a series.

Spring; the green and growing time. The time of birth and resurrection. A time of nesting and the caring for the young of the many wild species. Here, at the edge of the greywood, we see Mother Webber, quietly introducing her tiny, recently delivered, offspring into their prime habitat: the Northern, highland meadow edge.

All is well and as it should be, here at this place, at the beginning of this wondrous season. Welcome to the Warm Times my friends. It is seems more precious than ever.

“There is nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can do something at first. Any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a fiddle-stick, and he can do nothing”.

Samuel Johnson