We are walking the field of childhood, and wearing wellingtons. At the bottom of the field, cattle graze and quagmires form.

In the centre is an old oak tree. In summertime we enjoy the shade of its leafy canopy. But today we are looking at the green and white fritillaries of springtime, throwing sticks into the swollen stream. To the west, through gaps in the ragged hawthorn trees, we can see late snow on the Berwyn mountains.