The tiny world in a rotten post top

Wenlock Edge, Shropshire In this miniature pool had fallen a gunk of seeds and leaves, and lawns of algae had spread

Something about the fencepost grabbed my attention, and instead of watching the path winding through dark trees against the orchestral sweep of a January sky, I picked out small visual notes: moss, water, tree rings on the post.

I'd passed this way 100 times; each time was different and each time I'd been looking elsewhere. What brought the fencepost into focus this time? Perhaps it was the dissimilitude of small birds in the trees: blue tits, great tits, chaffinches, robins, so different from each other yet similar in their size and movement, their little mutterings under breath made me notice smaller details.