The river is low. A drake mallard stands on one of the rocks amongst the rapids midstream on the ruined weir, its green head irridescent in the low morning sun. A female dabbles at the foot of rapids, closely watched by another drake.
The stream is low too. Where it comes through the remains of an old mill race the water has gone down enough to reveal what might be part of stone channel on the stream bed.
only last week that we cleared the garden border by the hedge and dug
it over. Already the house sparrows are making the most
of it, gathering to dust-bathe, creating little craters in the dry soil.