We sit at our table enjoying our morning coffee and look out at the lush greens of the hostas, the poor denuded wisteria, and the bent and broken irises, all ravaged by the vicious wind of the last two days. Starlings have invaded our bird table, as their newly fledged youngsters, beaks agape, clamour for feeding by their busy parents. They shuffle and jostle their siblings for attention. The bird bath is a frenzy of splashing water, as a dozen or so birds spray water, not only over their feathers, but also onto the hydrangea and fuchsia on the ground below. It is a busy delightful scene, a reminder of new life and family interactions, something denied us at present. We have been busy and active during these last weeks of isolation, achieving a great deal in our home and garden. But we are starved of the embrace of our family, and can only look on in envy at these noisy, cavorting birds, enjoying what we are missing.