Tagged with bulbul

flights of fancy

Sighing over the inked gorgeousness of the Kalij Pheasants, their bijoux bandit look on account of the ruby shadowing their eye, I finally gave up pretending to be a bird enthusiast and admitted that I’m more a whimsical aesthete. Each time I see a bird (most strikingly in breeding plumage!), I only peripherally notice how … Continue reading


An October interlude, held together by gossamer: In a house adrift in mist, butterflies and free-standing giant dahlias and filled with bird call, cricket-chirr and the occasional toot as buses and cars swerved past this bend in the mountain, I recently read Jan Morris’ Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere. Although she memorialised and allegorised an imperial … Continue reading