A twittering troupe of acrobats

Haslington Trail, Cheshire An excitable flock gather in a leafless tree, flitting between the branches, chasing one another, tumbling and somersaulting. "They look like flying teaspoons," I say

It is early morning. Birds are singing. The air is chilly but the sun is bright. I pause to watch a wren darting between the stones of a wall. Then continue walking along Primrose Avenue, a hotchpotch of bungalows and houses, with parents taking children to school. I turn to stroll through a conservation area, a stretch of woodland, the Haslington Trail. Beyond the hawthorn hedge and brambles, there are misty-green fields dotted with mole hills and sheep. Dandelions bold as brass and celandines, glossy heart-shaped leaves, shiny bright-yellow flowers, embroider the well trodden path. There are buttercups, daisies too, small and bright as stars.

There is a smell of damp earth and green shoots. Raindrops glitter in the grass like glass beads. Last night there had been another deluge. This morning the sky flares salmon-pink and honeycomb-gold with a patch of midnight blue over the white poplar tree. The poplar has pale bark, though the trunk, low down, is patterned with black diamond shapes.