The countryside in springtime

It is a glorious sunny day, a really beautiful breezy blue sky day. Along the lane the katkins  have decked the hedgerow with yellow and green, the primroses are out and the last of the wild daffs bob their heads, The washing is blowing on the line. In the garden hens and ducks are pottering about , the geese are marching purposefully up and down the drive and the sheep have posed themselves in a most  picturesque manner in the shade of the elm tree on a bank amidst the daffodils as if waiting for a passing artist to capture them on canvas. Goats and dogs bask like beached  dolphins in their run, sleeping in the sun . All is right with the world.

 Nature is brimming with bucolic bliss; The air is full of the trill of varied bird song, the sound of cocks crowing, hens clucking  and the increasingly agitated tap tap tap as our slightly deranged gander  head butts the window attempting to get at his own reflection in the glass. The tranquility is  broken only  by the whine of a neighbouring farmers chainsaw , doing his bit for the environment by lopping about ancient oaks whilst balancing somewhat precariously on the roof of his tractor cab. thus setting off the goats doing whatever that strangled cry they make is called at the top of their discordant voices; sheep bleating and the dogs ( not wishing to be out done by the cloven hooved creatures of the household) howling like the hounds of hell, this annoys the geese who honk and call upon the ducks for aquatic support which in turns frightens the hens  who are convinced in true hen tradition that the end of the world is nigh,and it is so noisy I  have to  retreat inside in order to talk on the telephone.

The village church rings out the midday bell. The farmer descends from the dizzying heights of his tractor roof and climbs into his little white van and retreats to his farm for lunch . the animals, having satisfied themselves    of a job well done chasing the farmer away with their combined cacophony ,settle themselves down after all their exertion and all that can be heard is bird song, until 12.30 when the little yellow post van arrives and  honks its horn and it all starts again it all starts.

I  do love living in the countryside, it is so peaceful here.