Spring is in the air and it is time to hit the park. Not that Little G and I haven't been there before - it is our default location as there is a long hill leading to the lake that generally sends her to sleep on the way down, and gives me arm ache on the way up.
Today armed with the bread crusts that were going to be my lunch but hey, I am prepared to sacrifice nutrition in the cause of a nature lesson, we head down to the lake which is, with the onset of warmer weather, a hive of activity (apologies for mixed metaphor).
Ducks are paddling, ducks are quacking, ducks are flapping, ducks are disputing over lady ducks, ducks are transporting dodgy bits of litter and inappropriate sticks to perilously tenuous nesting sites. Little G and I are entranced
I park the buggy, and produce the bread bag from some inner crevice. Ducks pause in their various activities and start to foregather.
Bread is thrown. I give bread to Little G to throw. She eats it. I throw more bread. I give her more. She eats it. Ducks squabble and fight and knock each other into the water. We run out of bread.
All the way back up the long long hill I feel dizzy and lightheaded
And later, I can't stop fixating about duck. Roast duck. Duck risotto. Crispy duck with Hoisin sauce and sliced spring onions and pancakes ... I must be going down with some kind of mallard imaginaire.
To be continued .... ....