She could see the tops of trees above the wall, and when she stood still she saw a bird with a bright red breast sitting on the topmost branch of one of them, and suddenly he burst into his winter song - almost as if he had caught sight of her and was calling to her.She stopped and listened to him, and somehow his cheerful, friendly littlle whistle gave her a pleased feeling - even a disagreeable little girl may be lonely, and the big closed house and big bare moor and big bare gardens made this one feel as if there was no one left in the world but herself. If she had been an affectionate child, who had been used to being loved, she would have broken her heart, but even though she was "Mistress Mary quite contrary"she was desolate, and the bright - breasted little bird brought a look into her sour face which was almost a smile. She listened to him until he flew away.
........."There were trees there - I saw the tops of them. A bird with a red breast was sitting in one of them, and he sang."
To her surprise the surly old weather-beaten face actually changed it's expression. A slow smile spread over it and the gardener looked quite different. It made her think that it was curious how much nicer a person looked when he smiled. She had not thought of it before.
He turned about to the orchard side of his garden began to whistle - a low soft, whistle. She could not understand how such a surly man could make such a coaxing sound.
Almost the next moment a wonderful thing happened. She heard a soft little rushing flight through the air - and it was the little bird with the red breast flying to them, and he actually alighted on the big clod of earth quite near to the gardener's foot.
"Here he is," chuckled the old man, and then he spoke to the bird as if he were speaking to a child.
"Where hast thou been, tha cheeky little beggar?" he said."I've not seen tha before today. Has tha begun tha courtin' this early season? Tha'rt too for'ard."
The bird put his tiny head on one side and looked up at him with his soft bright eye, which was like a black dew drop. He seemed quite familiar and not the least afraid.............
"Will he always come when you call him?" she asked in almost a whisper.
"Aye, that he will, I've known him ever since he were a fledgling..............."
" What kind of a bird is he?" Mary asked.
"Doesn't tha know? He's a robin redbreast, an' they're the friendliest curiousest birds alive.........."
Extract from THE SECRET GARDEN by Frances Hodgson Burnett
When I was a little girl, Magpie would read this to me, and I always wanted to hear about the robin, over and over again.
I have loved robins ever since and we have one who frequents our garden regularly, he even obliges me by perching on the handle of my spade, just as I am losing hope that he will come nearer, he does. (Incidentally, I always garden in this outfit!)
Such an iconic winter bird, I have learned to recognise their song too, very pretty and even when I am in deepest thought it seems to reach my sub-conscious, forcing me to break from my reverie and look out of the window to see him.
I am also fond of this Robin too! But that's a whole different story for another day.
The Christmas Toast catalogue has landed, and look who is starring in it!
And if you reading Mr.Lane, yes please I should love one of these fabric covered note-books!
Oh and I love that wallpaper.
Now to sit here and read THE SECRET GARDEN again from start to finnish,
perfect..........
just pop my slippers on
Robins are the Gardeners' best friend x
