Stormy at Sea

The wind still blew. Was it the tail end of Storm Abigail we wondered? It pulled with jerks and tugs at the small bushes as the tall trees swayed and dipped. The clouds were high - a patchwork of cream and grey with the occasional splash of blue seemingly ferried along on their westerly quest. Every so often a thin ray of sunlight illuminated the fields and far-away downs, painting the lofty branches and earth yellow in it's wake, made even more dramatic against the dark sky.

The birds love it of course. From the relative peace of the bird table where the seed and peanut holders rock rhythmically back and forth to the bare tops of the tall ash and the high firs. It might be fair to say that the Corvus Clan are in their element. Gathering high in a mass and separating away in smaller groups to  momentarily reconvene before flying up and up and out of sight. Then they are back, falling, soaring, wheeling, pausing and then alighting on the highest Ash, which from a distance makes it look as if the tree is in full leaf again.

A lone gull passes over, soon followed by four more.
"Stormy at sea." Mum says.
A woodpigeon flaps on his way and a pair of magpies fly low and direct across the bare field behind him. Suddenly the sky is filled with the crow family again - their black wings fanned out like stretched fingers as they face into the wind, seemingly stopping in mid-air, then gliding speedily away as if on a whim of flying anywhere - just for the total enjoyment of the blustery day.

Still the clouds move resolutely on their way, but there is less blue to be seen now and fewer rays of sunlight peeping through the quilted sky.
"I think that rain is on the way, Gordon." Mum says.