so a damp and dismal morning turned into this. 
I can't convey strongly enough how much I enjoy this time of year here. It's something about the abundant frothy newness of the hedgerow and the contrast with the mown meadows. The screeching cry of the swift and the endless song of the skylarks. The patterns of the clouds shadows on the hillsides and the fleeting warmth of the sun on my back as I walk the lanes.