Spring - better late than never

DO you remember the grand opening ceremony at the Millennium Dome? It was all trapeze artists and Tony Blair’s grin.

The unveiling of the Riddle family’s Millennium Shed was a far more modest affair, attended only by the Riddle family, my friend Fiona from over the road, and the dog.

Still, it didn’t cost us millions of pounds, and it’s been infinitely more useful.

After a decade-long policy of benign neglect, this unassuming little structure even developed something akin to a green roof.  Very eco-friendly.

At the moment, sadly, that roof looks more like a mini-moonscape, with spoon-size craters gouged out of the moss by birds eager to line their nests.

But at least it’s proof that spring is here at last. And that’s something to celebrate.

Three or four weeks ago, when warm weather still seemed an impossible dream, we were astonished to see a duck hop out from under a bush close to our back door, followed by 11 ducklings. She led them down to the end of the garden, where they tumbled in to the river.

We were enchanted when they returned on three successive afternoons to sunbathe on the lawn. We counted them out, and we counted them in again – who can resist counting ducklings, I wonder?

Then, next day, there were none.  I guess the freezing wind and rain, the crows, the buzzards and the pike all took their toll.

Now there’s a lone female duck standing patiently beneath our bird table most mornings, waiting for the sparrows, tits and pigeons to dislodge bits of nut and seed from their holders, so she can gobble them up. We don’t know if it’s the same one. I’m probably daft for caring.