In the bleak midwinter, with the snow being gone from the coast, we went for a birdwatching walk with Paul and 3 other Birdies. Saw some wonderful flying things (see the Captain's Log for the technical details and photos).
I was trailing along behind the rest as my eyes don't work well with binoculars nowadays. By the time i have actually tried to look through them, turned them the right way round, looked through them again, tried to focus, got them focussed, tried to understand the cries of 'There, under that tree in the field" - there being nothing but trees and fields all round - the bird has already migrated.
I was thinking how beautiful it all is, even at this bleak time of year - a very grey mid January day, cold and damp, grey slushy snow melting - the trees stark and skeletal. But it was lovely lovely lovely and full of colour. The rushes were gold, some of the branches of the bushes were a dark red, it was still so green, so many shades you couldn't count them - and in the distance were the snow-covered downs.
We met three friendly horses and I wish I had thought to bring some carrots.
And then we spent a long time at the beach at Ferring. While they watched some dots way out in the distance on the water, I watched the breaking waves. And was reminded of a wonderful documentary we saw some years ago, about an African couple - father and daughter - bushmen of the Kalahari i believe - and a Dutch girl - who were taking two lions across the desert to the sea.
They had never seen the sea before - at the least the Kalahari Bush people hadn't. And talking about it afterwards, the father said: "I don't know how God made it so beautiful!"
Yes. Absolutely. I don't know how He did either, but am very grateful for it.