Country diary: Daffodil buds have appeared out of a memory of spring | Paul Evans

The Marches, Shropshire: On a windswept day with wild energy in the skies, something is happening out on the heathSpectral rain dogs chase through the wind across Old Racecourse Common above Oswestry. So much energy in the sky, so much fractured sunlight. Sheltered by a tangle of goat willow around North Common Pond, invisible birds set up a pod of sound made from scores of individual tweeps. A grunt may come from a hermit moorhen.The pond surface, silvered and sepia, ripples with raindrops and sparkles with light around a wavering tracery of branches, a shadow screen reflecting the unstable nature of a seemingly solid world. Willow branches sway, some supporting tufts of beard lichen, their alter-images moving sinuously over the newty water below. In this trick of the light, the dual realities of air and water present something that is neither of the two. This chattering, shimmering pond, tucked away in a corner of the common, is like a derelict chapel with its ghost choir and mysterious rituals. Continue reading...