Waking early as I usually do on a weekday, even when working from home, I put on my jacket and wandered down the lane to the sheep fields at the end.

Despite the warmer days, unseasonably warm this afternoon and tomorrow, the mornings remain chilly. My face, fingers and bare legs felt the cold after a few minutes but not enough to make me wish I’d chosen jeans rather than shorts.

Looking over the shallow double valley to the low hill and village beyond, there was a mist hanging over the fields and the sense of a frost in the deepest of the hollows. Behind that hill the electric orange from the soon to rise sun was adding sharp colour to the otherwise green-shaded monochrome of the pastures and hedges.

The sheep were quiet apart from the occasional light bleating of a lamb or maternal ewe but the birds seem to be not far of the height of their chorus. Dunnock, robin, blue tit, blackcap, wren, goldfinch, great tit, blackbird, song thrush and chiffchaff; they all added to the morning choir. Their songs and calls were almost loud enough to drown out all other sounds. Perhaps there are still a few spring arrivals missing from the list which will make the chorus even brighter.

Of course, the voice I’m waiting for the most is the swift – the sound of a summer dawn and perhaps only a month or so to wait.