On the fullness of a hay meadow in midsummer.

On attention and the rising life of a field in summer.

A visit to a remote seabird colony in Sutherland at the peak of the nesting season.

On the first morning of May, I venture out to hear the full magic of the dawn chorus in the woodland behind my house.

The discovery of a dead whooper swan on a deserted shoreline brings with it reflections on impermanence, and the turning wheels of life.

A tidal rock pool triggers reflections on memory and perception.

On hearing the sound of migrating geese flying over on a clear spring day.

A reflection on time and impermanence in an abandoned Iron Age hill fort.

The experience of a massive murmuration of starlings over a small Northumbrian village.

I came to watch the sea, but a gannet leads me to the waters of impermanence.

At the start of the pandemic, I take a walk up the fell and hear the skylarks in full song for the first time.

On what we see, and all that we don’t see.

Sitting on a cliff top after a storm, I reflect on the thrill of being close to a wild sea, and the waving nature of the mind.

A discovery in the garden brings unexpected transformation.