We’re two years into the collapse of the Western financial system, one year after the fall of Lehman Brothers, and still, when you listen to panels of clever people examining what has happened and what is likely to happen, there’s no clear picture of the way forward. The optimist in me believes that at some point in the future we’ll look back on it all and be able to say that it all happened for the best. The pessimist wonders if I’ll live long enough to see it.
I think Bette Davis has the best advice for us all:
In the evening a nightingale comes visiting, filling the dusk with liquid magic. As balance, the midges have started up, too, so you have to risk a few bites in return for the music. I risk it. A life without nightingales in it would be a sad thing and not even the midges will take that away from me.
He’s been a regular visitor since the spring; sadly, he’ll quieten down now that the leaves are falling. Never entirely quiet, though, and just when you think he’s disappeared up he’ll pop again.
That’s worth a hey-ho if anything is.
~~+~~
in the evening
a nightingale
sings
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I have never heard such a beautiful song. Thank you and Nick Penny. Oh our mockingbirds have lovely songs but I’ve not heard one in so long. Our air conditioner is still on.
How beautiful! Thank you for a lovely start to my day.
Beautiful! Thank you, John! Now I know what to listen for! I’ve heard a song something like that up on the higher part of our mountain, but didn’t know what it was. Down in the ‘residential area,’ we usually hear magpies.
That was lovely. Our neighborhood mockingbirds sound similar but not so persistent.
Help! Somehow, I’m getting nothing at all in the two spots designated to be holding something either to be watched or both watched AND heard. I’m also feeling very picked on, sorely tried, and indisputably cheated! Maybe there’s something I need to do? This has only happened just recentlym, maybe the last couple postings from you.
have a nice evening John
John, you are seriously honoured.
I have not heard a nightingale sing in the wild since I was about fifteen, “somewhere in Essex” (we kept such things quiet in those days; perhaps people still do). It was an experience not to be forgotten.
Appreciate that wonder, and never mind the recession; some things are more important.