Early in the morning it is when I step outside. With the darkness the quality of the night is still around me; it feels comfortable. Like a woolen blanket wrapped around me. There is no wind and the sky is clear. No clouds are to be seen. Venus, one of the planets, is brightly shining and so is Jupiter, another one.
Then all of a sudden there is that sound, airy and determined. It is coming from far way back so it seems. Nevertheless the sound links seamless with the mysterious atmosphere of the moment.
Moon in the morning
From his sheltered spot on a nearby ash tree branch he is singing. Long thrillers are interchanged with a variety in modes of whistling. Sometimes the phrases are long; at other instances they are short which smoothly switch to more complicated ones as well. One after another he narrates of many stories he arrogated from other species.
It is still dark, not only this early morning though. On these days of midwinter when daylight is scarce while I have a longing for it, it is lovely to pick the right moment to experience it and to be in this very moment of clarity. This is what happened to me when the throstle sang. Through his voice the worlds of light and darkness combined and inner freedom was born.
First primrose of pre-spring
Spring is on the way.
Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin