My ageing bones rose to birdsong, the first alarm of the morning chorus.

The sky faint in the black of the kitchen window. Coffee brewed as dawn edged in. Sardines for breakfast, then out into a grey morning.

Summer time arrived in the night. The house clocks sit an hour behind.

A degree warmer than yesterday.

Magpies call into a reddening sky. Jackdaws chatter. Canada geese come in. Herons shout. Yaffles everywhere.

The marsh asks for time, in good and bad, in heat and cold, in bright and dark, before it begins to make sense. Otherwise it shows very little. Without knowing where to stand, or when, or what is there, it is easy to give up.