7:30 Up the garden.

I went to replenish the bird feeders.
The mornings are now very noticeably brighter.
Earlier on as I peeped through the bedroom curtains by the lefthand open window, I heard the notes of a blackbird in the trees a little way off.
The first bird I love to hear begin to sing is the thrush. Such a clear, melodic, evocative song.
They are scarce now around here, but each approaching spring I’ve still heard one and been uplifted.
I’m still catching up with your photos on blip. So many different daily lives reflected here.