This period of lockdown is having a major impact on how we go about living our lives. We have stopped travelling, going to school, visiting family, friends, even neighbours – all with devastating effect. And many are suffering the effects of what is called “social distancing”.

The interesting thing is, social distancing is a misnomer, for it is physical distancing that has been forced upon all of us. Which, admittedly, puts distance into our social circles, depriving us of the close contact that this period has made us all too aware we miss – through its absence.

I find I suffer less with the limitations placed upon us when I venture out. Not necessarily far, or for long, as even only a short walk with the dog makes me forget the daily hubbub, the grind of not always very positive news, the worry of seeing our business and income suffer.

And it does put things into perspective: yes, Covid-19 is upsetting in lots of ways, and may have quite negative effects for years to come, but it does not fundamentally change the way the larger world works. Of course, yes, other things may do that, but that’s for another time.

The grass still grows.

Cattle and sheep still graze in the fields directly around us.

A cuckoo calls from down the valley; for the first time since quite a while.

The stream still flows and the hedgerows are still full of flowers.

There are masses of orchids in the lower part of the meadow.

Bees and bumblebees are having a field day in our borders.

The tits and finches that were constantly visiting the bird feeder earlier have stopped doing so, which is a good thing, for it means they are busy sitting on eggs.

The sparrows that nest in cracks between the stones of our walls and in the nest boxes we have put up are making an enormous racket.

The swallows made it back to us again, and are swooping around in arcs that, miraculously, always end precisely at the opening of their nest under our eaves.

The pair of geese that each year come back to Rosemoor Lake to breed have another brood: three healthy goslings, happily munching away at the grass between the cattle and sheep.

And Mr and Mrs Swan have been very successful this year: they happily guide their seven (!) cygnets across the Lake in a stately flotilla.  

All of this tells me one thing: Nature doesn’t stop. And if we behave as careful custodians, we’ll be able to keep enjoying it: tomorrow, later in the year, next year, for years to come.