Awakening

Serves me right, I shouldn't have mentioned 'Spring', it brought virtually instant retribution in the form of several days of southeasterly gales. However, just before they arrived, there were a few more pleasant moments.

A walk at Brodgar was graced with a Skylark singing from on high for all he was worth, in defiant opposition to (in no particular order) other male Skylarks, hungry raptors, the gusty wind and gravity. There were ducks aplenty on both Harray Loch (freshwater) and Stenness Loch (brackish), as well as in field pools and scrapes. Just over the brow of a low hill from the Neolithic stone circle, a piece of rough ground offered up a Short-eared Owl on a fence post. When I tried to film it, the owl immediately took to the air, and all I managed was 7 seconds of shaky, wind-blasted footage. Back home, I was able to turn off the wind noise, and slow down the footage so that it wasn't so jerky, resulting in a slo-mo SEO.

Some of the afore-mentioned waterfowl, Tufted Ducks and a female Red-breasted Merganser

Because the 'S' word was in the air, there was a fair bit of courtship and bonding to be seen from several species of birds. This was perhaps best illustrated by a pair of Common Gulls who appeared to be walking out together of a Sunday afternoon. Aw, romantic! Maybe not.

The following day was again warm enough for Honey Bees, and this time I managed to photograph one, albeit not on a flower, but basking in the sun's rays on the wall of home.

Aware that the weather was going to revert to type, I also set about photographing some of the other Spring bulbs in the tiny patch of meadow (as unlike the lawn, it's only mown once a year), before they were pummelled by the gales.

Spring Snowflakes looking udderly gorgeous (sorry!)

I couldn't immediately think what this was...

Delicate pale pink flowers...

Which emerged from flower buds like these?

It was vaguely familiar, but also quite alien, so I was thoroughly perplexed. In the end, I resorted to the internet with a 'small pale pink spring flower' search. Looking through the resulting images, I eventually spotted something that matched and let out an exasperated "Of course!" If I had only thought of the flowers as blue, I would've instantly realised that they were a Squill, similar to the wild Spring Squill which does grow on windswept clifftops around Orkney. Here in the garden was Rosy Squill, Scilla bifolia 'Rosea'.

The Redcurrant bushes were really pleased that the Willow had been cut back, although they no longer have any shelter from the weather, so that may be a double-edged sword. 

I hope that you all have a bit of time to notice the burgeoning season and take some comfort from the ages-old process of Nature's awakening from the dormancy of Winter.