An early evening walk around the lanes. Spring in full flow. My first butterflies of the year—a pair, checking each other out. A curlew burbling in our farmer friend’s field, then flying overhead en route to the Moor. Pussy willow at its fluffiest…
…but where, oh where, are the swallows?
Ah! There you are:
I know a single swallow doesn’t make a summer, but this one certainly made my March.