Mere Sands Wood Meditation

It's a wet, quiet day here.

I'm sat in a hide overlooking the mere, watching the comings and goings of the wildfowl. Behind me, around me, the chorus of early spring is resounding through the bare birch trees, overlaid with the constant, rhythmic, entrancing plip plip of rain on the old wooden roof which shelters me.

There's not a lot going on, but that's often the case with nature. Hours of monotony punctuated by short bursts of activity. The egret, a new interloper from the backs of African beasts hunkers down in the steel grey waters, occasionally preening her pristine plumage or watching the mute swan glide by.