Today I walked up Mowsbury hill which is seeping like a sponge. Violets and primrose on the slopes, and, in the orchard, the wild plums are blossoming. I sat at the foot of an apple tree and sketched - first in pencil and then in ink and wash. It was therapeutic.
But not quite as peaceful as once it was. The hilltop is now criss-crossed with paths and populated by many more dog-walkers than before. There's hardly a patch of ground elder and nettle that is undisturbed by human foot.
Nonetheless, at about 6 o'clock, two fat rabbits came out of the wood - on to the grass at the left of my sketch. Some minutes later there was a sudden croaking bark - a bit like a pheasant, but not quite. Birds starting fussing in the trees. Fox. Time to go home.