Seagull on a post at Flamborough Head.

A swan and two geese on the Calder at Horbury Bridge. The swan looked like it was putting a nest together but the main reason I liked this pic was because the birds look a little like they’re sailing boats down the river.

A heron at Hardcastle Crags.

Goose at Mablethorpe. Loads of these geese live on a tiny, nearly bald island in the middle of a park boating lake in Mablethorpe (very small seaside town on the north Lincolnshire coast). They don’t bother to build any nests, yet lay masses of eggs which roll down the slope to be caught by the kerb edging the island.

Exhibition pigeons at Mirfield Show.

And finally, walking along in a London park this week I came across this rather magnificent white bird, perched placidly in the middle of the lake:

Is it a heron? A pelican? Any answers welcome, because I don’t have a clue.

Then, a little further along the path, I saw two more of them:

They were busy ducking their heads under the water to scoop it up in their bills. 

I stood and watched them until they’d had enough, floating off down the water and fluffing their glistening white wings in the sunshine.

That do you for now, Pat?

All too soon, she decided it was too tiring and rested beneath the climbing frame.

Whilst her brother scrambled all over the top.

They overlook a field of wheat, sprinkled with poppies and other wildflowers, which has been grown as food/ ground cover for the partridges and pheasants for a nearby shoot.

Okay, so the wheat is past its best. But the whole made a perfect picture, and such a pleasant change.

Dad took one look at this pic and said: “Who’s that old man?” We told him to shut up, drink his Complan, and plan a showing schedule for her for next year.

This pony is far too good to stay in the field.

Top tip: bubble swords cost £3.50 in the RHS shop at Harlow Carr Gardens. I got two for £1 in a cheap shop in Dewsbury.

Dewsbury – home of cheapskates.

We had news that a dog matching her description had been handed into a vet’s in Mirfield, but then they handed her on to a dog rescue place. They, in turn, stuck her in a temporary home but then told my sis that she had run away from there, somewhere in Huddersfield.

So if you’re in West Yorkshire, please keep your eyes peeled. Parson Russell terrier bitch, small with a rough coat. White body, black spot at the base of her tail and black patches on her back legs. Black nose, two black ears and a tan patch over one eye.

Come home Maddie. Buster and Willis need a woman to keep them in line.

ADDENDUM: Maddie is home! Long story, but hopefully someone is in big, big trouble for this.

And whilst I was there, I followed a link to the blog of Bishop Alan Wilson, where I picked up this phrase:

Faith in God prevents me always externalising the foe, and reminds me that I have to struggle within myself to be the kind of change I want to see in the world, or all my efforts will be no more than anger and opinionations self-righteously aimed at others.

I thought that beautifully expressed how I see my own passage through life.

AND THEN I followed a link from Bishop Alan to Dan and Dan, listened to what has to be the song of the year, and laughed until I cried. Can’t figure out how to post the video here, but do please follow the link.

I proceeded to tell Firstborn all about the frogspawn, and how it was in the middle of the pond which, folklore would have it, means we’re in for a hot, dry summer. “Uhuh,” he said, looking unconvinced.

“No, really,” I insisted, explaining that the frogs sense that the pond is going to dry up round the edges in the summer so they put the spawn in the middle. When they sense it’s going to be damp, they lay it at the edges. As I was busy explaining my folklore my brain kept giving me a little nudge, and eventually I realised that, as the spawn is all hatched out within a month or so, it doesn’t make any difference whether the summer is dry or wet. Darn.

Here are some snowdrops, at Oakwell Hall:

I can’t seem to avoid having slightly blurry photos.

Then Firstborn and I tried to get Sparky to pose alongside a clump. She wasn’t terribly impressed with the idea, but eventually consented to park her bottom – right on top of a bunch of the little flowers. Oh well:

And, of course, Dick Francis has died so I have to reread all his novels – especially Hot Money. See you soon.