This morning’s walk seems to have unlocked a little of the inspiration that has been lacking since the lock down began. Here is what it produced:

The stony ground pokes up unevenly into the bottom of my trainers as I follow the undulating footpath up the hill. At 9am on an April morning, the chill has not quite left the air, and the shadows make me shiver as little prickles of goose bumps raise on my arms.

The sun is shining brightly though, in a cloudless blue sky. The blue is still a little washed out, but it holds the promise of a glorious day, as does the warmth of the sun on my skin.

The odd pebble is kicked forward as I walk, skipping off rocks and stones and pinging into the grass either side of the narrow path. To the left is a tall hedge, white blossoms peppering the leaves, shouting their welcome to the spring with the brightness and clarity of their petals. On the right, a grassy field stretches away to a distant copse of trees. The grass is long, and untended, left to fallow.

Birds are greeting the day, with their chattering calls and flirting chirrups as they pass on the gossip and plans for their day. The tight whirr of bird wings cuts through the sound of buzzing insects as they flit from branch to branch, interrupted occasionally by the mundane rumbling swoosh of distant traffic.

The sharp, sweet smell of the long grass reaches me as my breathing deepens and quickens from the exertion of the slope. The heavy, nose-itching smell of horse manure drifts through from time to time, creating an interesting juxtaposition of scents that catch in the back of my nose and make my breathing hitch.

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The sun on my left is warming my cheek and arm, in contrast to the arm still feeling the chill of the cool breeze swirling past: just the suggestion of a caress in its passing. The hairs on my arm raise from its touch, and the cool is welcome, as the first trickle of sweat makes itself known between my shoulder blades.

I stop, startled, as a tall deer bursts out of the woods, running across the field, mouth open and ears twitching. She is wary, but not frightened, as she slows to navigate the best route through the electric fencings in her path. As she gains the far side, she stops and looks back, her smooth, sleek hair in both sun and shadow, before I turn away and continue on in the other direction.