Nicola Pitchford

I can only be glad that it enjoyed a peaceful evening ramble enhanced by the gentle soundtrack of your tinkling.

That’s actually pretty special. I only ever see dead ones. Velvety but sad.

Pastoral.

Ah, so unpretentious and precious. Thanks, Nicholas.

I will say only, in grief, that Epic Fury is not the exclusive property of our rancid government.

A few petals of orange California poppy in long grass in dim light. Beyond, a line of lavender water reflecting a fiery sunrise sky in neon orange and violet.

A lush green hill and a glimpse of pale violet-blue water below, under a pink-orange sunrise sky.

Orange and grey clouds stretched above steel grey water.

Early morning blue sky with wind-spread pale pink-yellow cloud, above a green landscape.

Again a half-dozen hares exploded away from me as I reached the ridge & the incredible eastern sky came into view. As if they’d been having a secret dance there.

(Hey, are you even trying if you aren’t at least *risking* being fey?)

Cream-coloured, cloud-blurred full moon in a blue dawn sky over green hills.

I just missed capturing the moment when the Great Horned Owl flew over, cargoing in improbable silence the heft of its head.

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Over on IG, it’s that magical day when the dairy cows at James Robinson’s Strickley Farm in Cumbria taste grass again for the first time in the year. A really joyous feast day in my private calendar, & I’m so glad I didn’t miss it this morning.

Magical. I am instantly transported back to England.

Beautiful, Amy. Thanks for posting this & my heart goes out to both you & @hedgehoghugh.bsky.social

This is true.

Heaven.

Um, there’s a reason they call the aftermath the Reign of Terror.

Beautifully said. I mourn deeply at what has been done in my name.

Hoping the pain passes soon. x

Astonishing. Absolutely cursed.

I would ABSOLUTELY have rescued him too.

I still wonder occasionally what happened to my pocket-sized Rabbo, sometime in the late 1970s.

Outstanding reason to eat more pie. This might even have worked on me as a food-hating, rabbit-obsessed child. (Chocolate blancmange in a rabbit-shaped mould was not a big success. I cried when its head was cut off.)

Beautiful.

Gorgeous. Sounds like home.

Oh that's lovely. I feel held.

Raw Story indeed.

Bless you. Furiously committed to shining.

I am here for the furious kindness, the incendiary gentleness.

Coming out of a govt briefing in Washington on Friday, all I wanted to do was empty my wallet to the first person who asked.

NICE ONE 🏆

No. Not possible. You are adding to the net sum of good.

Thousands of us watching, all desperately needing a way to feel we are contributing to the net sum of good.

Bunny silhouette on a green grass ridge under a mauve and yellow sunrise sky.

Our hares here are jackrabbits a.k.a. desert hares.

Orange underlit sunrise clouds in a blue sky over the dark outline of a hill.

Green hilltop with mist hanging in a hollow. Stripes of orange in the sky above.

Lone tree on a green hilltop with a narrow path leading up to it. Mist beyond.

Lush grass in the foreground, going to seed already, with a misty hollow beyond and a gentle hill. Early morning sky in grey and butter yellow.

Three hares on the ridge this morning, as if prompted by the calendar. Then deer fleeing as I descended. And a ridiculous feeling of pride that the only owl calling in the neighbourhood is in our tree. Our landlord’s tree.

Ooooh that looks like very much my thing 👀