We show clips from the 2008 or the recent osprey breeding season to visitors here at the Visitors Centre. Yesterday, again, I marveled at the perfectness of a perfect chick hatching from a very perfectly shaped egg. Even the mottling on the egg could not be imitated or improved upon by us humans. Nature occurs in, as we call it nowadays “real time”. Take the chaffinch chattering at the the roosting tawny owl this morn as I fed the feeders. The nest too could not be “better”. I have viewed and narrated over the sweet voice on one of the clips often and am staggered at how life unfolds…constantly.
Last night I saw some photographs on exhibit. One stands out; an image of a meticulously created formal garden at Drummond Castle. It must have occupied at least 20 acres. I think you know the sort of garden of which I speak; Victorian geometry, a dark colour here to reflect the dark colour on the other side, a pyramid shape matched by another, a sphere opposite a sphere, miniature boxwood hedges on a 45 degree angle intersected by the next 45 degree angle, designed to view from above. Yes above. It was, for some, dare I use the word again “perfect”.
It felt as if it was a lifeless place, a static space.
Near that photograph was a close-up of a pile of raspberries bathed in what I can only describe as raspberry red. Each tiny hair was visible on each mini capsule of joy. Each capsule connected to one another to form seeds for you, and for me. Rinchen