Ah-ha, I realize now why Robyn-the-robin and I have a special bond. She figured it out way before I did. It seems that we have something in common.
You see, we’re both twin-mums. That would explain our shared under-eye baggage, at least. (Yes I know, other sources of chronic exhaustion are available. Parents – even twin parents – don’t have a monopoly on tired, etc etc, etc.) But sometimes it feels good to hang out with a fellow mum-of-multiples. Look! Here are her babies!
Twice this week, Robyn has let her two newly-fledged babies down to feast on mealworms by our back door whilst I was there. She’s never done this with previous broods. It’s fair to say that my cold old heart melted in a messy puddle on the rug – which is a shame, because it was a particularly pleasing rug. ↓
Her babies are extremely wary. Fair enough. That wariness will keep them alive. The only way that I could get photos was to leave a motion-activated camera outside the door. I hope that one day, they’ll eat from my hand just like their mother does but for now, I respect their caution.
Last year, Robyn disappeared around this time in July, reappearing six months later as though nothing had happened and dive-bombing my head in an attempt to get my attention, because we all know who’s the boss in this relationship. So whenever I don’t see her for a day or so, I wonder whether she’s headed off to Spain or wherever it is she goes for her autumn holiday.
I didn’t see her for a few days but she was back yesterday, hungry and cheeky as ever. Whilst I was prising bindweed out of the lawn using the scant remains of my fingernails, one of the twinnage came outside to say in a bored-because-this-happens-all-the-time voice, “Mumma, Robyn’s waiting for you on the sofa in the sitting room… and she’s done a stress-poo on the rug.”
Yet again, it’s the poor rug that suffers in this blog post. But at least Robyn is still here. Needless to say, I stopped what I was doing and went to fetch her ninth breakfast of the day.
But I seem to remember that this is a knitting blog. That jumper I began knitting last post? It’s been ripped back and begun again, because my desire for a mindless project meant that I didn’t engage my brain sufficiently to ensure I was casting on the correct number of stitches. As I finished many hours’ work on the body and prepared to begin the sleeves, I realized that I’d cast on a size too large. So now, I begin again.
Another day, another wander through the woods with the twinnage, knitting as I go.
Happy yarnery, my fine fibrous friends.