Outhgill Church, in Mallerstang, Cumbria...

From the moment I lifted the latch of the churchyard gate, a sense of peace enveloped me. It was a combination of factors, I suppose. St Mary’s is an old church in an out-of-the-way place, which has occupied its little patch of ground since it was built, in the first years of the 14th century. In 1663, finding the church “ruinous and decayed”, the redoubtable Lady Anne Clifford set about repairing it, as she repaired most of the other properties she inherited. She recorded the fact on a stone plaque above the door.

Also, it felt like the first day of spring... and, after such a long and hard winter, not before time. The grass was greening up, the sun was shining and the fields were full of new-born lambs. Here and there, in the churchyard, were little clumps of daffodils, which a couple of days of sunshine had brought into flower. Before the day was out I’d seen the first swallows, house martins and sand martins of the year, and heard the cadence of the first willow warbler (as well as having a wasp trying to drown itself in my beer). A buzzard wheeled lazily overhead... almost a metaphor for time passing slowly.

By my reckoning (and, yes, you have to wonder about the priorities of a man who bothers to keep a record of such things) the swallows usually return about April 21, so April 10 is very early. Some mechanism compelled the swallows, wintering in sub-Saharan Africa, to begin their long flight north, back to their breeding grounds in rural Cumbria... and to set off ten days early. What do the swallows know that we don’t?

I’m amazed by the mysteries of bird migration. I’m amazed, too, by the strength of faith that built this small, squat church about 700 years ago. And I enjoyed that peaceful feeling as I strolled around the churchyard with the warmth of the sun on my back, looking for camera angles and reading the inscriptions on the gravestones... while taking care not to tread on the daffodils. Even on my own, in a country churchyard, I have the distinct feeling I’m being watched...