Outside my (rather dirty) kitchen window

is this glorious bramley apple tree. I've never seen the blossom so profuse, I think it's because we haven't had any strong winds this spring. When we first moved here six years ago, I made apple everything : crumble, pie, sauce, chutney, cake, jelly. But the novelty has long since worn off. Now, I might rise to the occasional crumble. The fallen apples see the blackbirds through the winter.

I killed the baby blackbird this morning - see yesterday's blip. I resolved to do it, hardened my heart. It was huddled in the grass, I just had to pick it up. As I tried to figure out how to hit its little twisted head with a brick, it died in my hand. I realised that I'd been holding it so tightly to make sure it didn't get away that I suffocated it. Oh well. I'm relieved now.

Nature, eh?