The little one

One day, I saw two baby robins in the garden. I don't know which one this is... or indeed if this is one of them... but I am sure this one is a regular and probably Son of Bob's baby. He or she seems relatively tolerant of me - and to know that I am associated with both food and the absence of starlings.

This is about the same time of year (late May) that I first got to know Bobbit... so I am slightly hopeful that I will have a robin companion. Not that this compensates for the loss of Bobbit.

And on that, I have been thinking back... that day when he wanted me to follow him... was there something there? A danger? Did I fail him? Those sticking up feathers on his back... were they a sign, not of a bedraggled state or the reminder of a scrap, but the sign of something more significant... a tumour or an infected wound?

I look at the late pictures of him and think that he does not look well. Not that there's anything I could have done. I couldn't catch him, for example.

Instead, I consider the precarity of life. The edginess of it.

So, I am brooding, rather. And uninspired... although I have made the PowerPoint for my Austria presentation and I have been working on a presentation for Romania (online) in November. I have a PowerPoint in progress.

No painting though. I was working of a quadruplet (?) - four images where I missed the animal - the back end of a squirrel, just the front of a seagull and so on. It was a nice idea... but my work was so... poor that I lost the will. I should just play with colours. You'll see from tomorrow than a certain purple has promise....