There was a sepia softness to the meadows this morning and the faintest breath of warm wet earth. I walked there every day last week wearing double scarves and woolly hats but today there was no need. No need to hunch the shoulders and hurry along. No need to get back to shelter.
I stood opposite the wooded stretch and listened as the birds start to tentatively sing again after a tough few days. A chaffinch, woodpeckers calling and drumming, great tits, blue tits, a single song thrush. A party of starlings. A pleasure to just stand still and drink it all in. Give it a day or two and there’ll be a full chorus singing in the early spring sunshine.