A navy blue hour

S. asked me to write about spring.

From the windows which look onto the back yard, one can see a very tall poplar tree. It's obviously grown like bingo for the last ten or fifteen years, and now that the crown has overtopped the roofline, the branches thicken and diversify at the top. A pair of european magpies (corvidae pica, or Elster) have a nest that they refurbish each year. Because we are very close to the park-which-used-to-be-a-railway-terminus, there is also a very large murder of crows around these here parts.
The last few mornings, it has been an intra-species drama. The magpies are attempting to rebuild the nest, and some of the crows, in a most desultory fashion, have been attempting to take it over. This means that a crow waits until one magpie has flown off to get a stick, and then goes and sits in the nest with its own stick, picking at the structure. Stick magpie returns, and with its partner they threaten the crow by flying up at it and crying out. The crow remains standing on the nest, or hops to one side a bit.
After a while, about ten minutes, all parties are tired. They sit within a metre of each other, making no sound, and then eventually the crow flies away.

When I unlocked my bike in the backyard this morning, I stood and looked up at the tree. From the ground, the nest is invisible. I breathed in deeply through my nose, and could smell a scent. Whilst the change is invisible, the vines, trees and bushes have begun to exude delicate aromas, and via this cool damp air my heart was refreshed.

My friend Stefanie loves the colour blue, and as we leave work we remark to each other upon the delicate annd immense indigo of the evening sky. It is a sky both radiant and absorbing.

This evening, watching the Spree from Schillingbrücke, I saw a whirlpool form in the water.