They - whoever "they" are - have cut down the blackberry patch: good; it was invading the only path on the north side. Not so good; they've also cut down the tall grasses where the heron liked to hide, hunting frogs at the edge of the water; they've planted rose bushes instead. We saw no sign of the heron, on this visit.
February: a cold, cloudy day, with the sun occasionally making a half-hearted attempt at piercing the clouds. The shrubs are still just bare stems. What with the mud of the banks, the left-over tangle of felled branches and trees, the remaining dried grasses, all the colours are subdued.
Except for the brilliant green of the mallard males' heads.
|Mallards and squiggly reflections|
|Light and dark|
And in spite of the low water, the cormorant is back. There must be some fish for him; some small fish that don't mind shallow, muddy water.
|Cormorant and mallards|