A bumblebee buzzes comfortingly around my feet. Chiffchaffs chime in the trees and hidden Cetti’s warblers burst into short blasts of song. The reed and sedge warblers aren’t here yet, but any day now the reeds and bushes will be filled with their chattering and whistles. Across the river, two displaying lapwings squeal and curl and loop in the air. A piping redshank flies overhead. Both wader species are barely clinging on as breeding birds in the valley.
I lift my face up to the warming sun, close my eyes and listen. This is the first time I’ve returned since my father passed away. We used to come here to listen to the birdsong and watch for owls in the evenings. This morning, I can feel the place work its soothing magic.
