Wind whooshes through the trees on the lane, enough to knock old and young leaves flying before they flutter to the ground. Glimpses of sun flicker through grey clouds while drops of rain spit malevolently. A talkative wind, this post solstice wind. It murmurs and grumbles with moments of stillness. Crows and cattle add their own comments in the wind’s silence. There’s traffic noise again, a lot. The silence of lockdown has disappeared. Closer to where I sit on an old rock an ash tree throws a twig down landing close to Rosie and unnerving her before she decides it is safe and she can continue sniffing for squirrels who normally hide in the higher branches of the tree but this is a time for noticing things that appear almost overnight like the peacock butterfly  caterpillars  on the nettles among the hedgerows and the fungus developing on the old tree stump. Who knows what will appear next – hopefully the sun?