From the middle of May until July each year, on nights when the weather is fine, the sky glows late into the evening, far out to sea in the north-west. Then the red deer come to browse furtively on the crofts in the gloaming, and Algy sits in his tree in the strange light, and talks to them.

This year another bird is talking to them too, and his rasping call carries all across the land in the still of the evening …

Listen to the sound that Algy heard as he was conversing with the deer.

Algy could feel that the weather was changing. It really was spring at last, and to prove it, bluebells were suddenly popping up everywhere. Algy adores bluebells, so he spent a happy hour among them in the dappled shade, listening to the first two swallows chattering to each other as they swooped around overhead.

          A fine and subtle spirit dwells
          In every little flower,
          Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
          With more or less of power.
          There is a silent eloquence
          In every wild bluebell
          That fills my softened heart with bliss
          That words could never tell.

[Algy is quoting from the poem The Bluebell by Anne Brontë.]

Sometimes, on a fine day, Algy likes to visit one of the local tourist spots for fun. As he has already seen the view many times, Algy finds himself a good perch in a tree looking out the other way, and watches the visitors instead.

Algy especially hopes that this pretty scene will bring a little bit of sunshine and a smile into the lives of his friends who are suffering from depression. He wishes you all a happier day today xx

At this time of year the nights are light, and Algy finds it difficult to sleep. There was a beautiful crescent moon sinking down behind the ridge, so Algy found a perch in his tree and watched the moon set. It reminded him of a haiku by Yosa Buson, the Japanese master:

          The short night –
          Broken, in the shallows,
          A crescent moon.

Algy was sitting quietly in the tangled mass of honeysuckle, thinking idly about life, the universe, and nothing much at all, when a huge black cloud turned everything dark and there was a sudden shower of hail. As the shower moved rapidly towards the hill, a dazzling hailbow appeared, with sheets of hail still falling around it. Algy thought it was perhaps the brightest rainbow he had ever seen, but it only lasted for a few minutes and then vanished …

In the spring the sun sets in the north-west, over the Sea of the Hebrides and the Small Isles, so on fine evenings Algy loves to sit quietly in his tree and watch the glowing colours on the horizon.

The very next evening, the sun chose a different place to create special effects, lighting up the same ridge which it had left ignored in deep shadow the day before. The beautiful but fleeting fiery effect lasted only for a few moments and was gone. Algy felt that such an ephemeral effect deserved a haiku, so he chose this one by the 18th century Japanese master Issa, and thought especially of his Japanese Tumblr friends on the other side of the world:

          the mountain sunset
          within my grasp…
          spring butterfly

The low evening sun streaming through the clouds created a pocket of golden light on the hillside by Algy’s home, so he moved across from his rock, to a perch on the edge of the old quarry. The barren ridge behind him was still in deep shade, with the black clouds brushing its edges with swirling mists. Algy knew that the sun would soon be gone again, so he soaked up as much of it as he could.

It had been a wild and stormy day, but towards the evening the sun broke through the clouds from time to time, in sudden bursts of gold. Algy sat on one of his favourite rocks, listening to all the sounds around him, and watching the rapidly changing light. He was reminded of a poem by Emily Brontë:    

          High waving heather ‘neath stormy blasts bending,
          Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars,
          Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,
          Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,
          Man’s spirit away from its drear dungeon sending,
          Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.

          All down the mountain sides wild forests lending
          One mighty voice to the life-giving wind,
          Rivers their banks in their jubilee rending,
          Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,
          Wider and deeper their waters extending,
          Leaving a desolate desert behind.

          Shining and lowering and swelling and dying,
          Changing forever from midnight to noon;
          Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,
          Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,
          Lighning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
          Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.

Cherry blossom! There wasn’t very much, admittedly, but Algy was delighted to see it all the same. Perhaps it really was spring at last! The mist had cleared away, the sky had turned a pale shade of blue, and it even felt almost warm in the sun for the first time this year. So Algy spent a happy hour or two among the blossom, listening to Mr. Blackbird singing from the top of Algy’s own tree.

Listen to the blackbird singing to Algy as he sat in the cherry tree, with the sheep chiding their lambs in the background.

Algy’s tree had at last got a beautiful new coat of spring green, so despite the fact that it was dripping wet in the persistent Scotch mist, he couldn’t resist spending the afternoon on its cushion of soft new needles. He hoped that if he spread his wings out far enough, he could keep the water off his book. In the distance, another of the recently arrived summer visitors was calling to him …

Listen to the sounds Algy heard as he was reading in his tree.

Wheatears are usually the first of Algy’s migrant friends to return to see him in the spring, normally arriving in early April. But this year they were late, and Algy had been getting worried. So he was relieved when he met this handsome fellow, who had just arrived from Africa with interesting tales to tell of his long and arduous journey to Algy’s corner of the Scottish Highlands.