March 28th – Daffodils. We all love them. I don’t think it’s possible to dislike these jolly, bright spring staples; yellow, white and orange, growing in gardens, verges, hedgerows, woodland and wasteland.

I adore them because they symbolise a new year beginning of light, long days, good rides and beautiful nature.

They are stunning in the huge displays they form, but while those are undoubtedly wonderful, I’d like to hear it for the solitary soldiers of spring – the loners, the brave, singular blooms you see dotted about.

Often on verges or poor ground, they may be the tentative start of a new patch in coming years, destined to multiply and impress from a single bulb that got there – who knows how?

They may be the last remnant of a patch decimated by disease (as large daffodil colonies often are) or disturbed by man.

They may not be perfect. They may be tatty, small or distorted. They may be eking out the last scrap of nutrition from a poor clump of soil, or harassed by traffic, animals or the wind, but they’ve done it, the lonely, single flowers. They put on a show for us.

Let’s hear it for the tenacious, bold one-offs!

December 29th – I saw her in the usual place, near Penkridge Bank – an elderly, lone fallow doe. Split from her herd, she was clearly in good health and not troubled, just sheltering in a patch of scrub. Oddly, she was the only deer I saw that day, but it was good to see her.

People seem to get overly concerned about deer this weather, but this really is the kind of winter they’re built for. They’ll be fine.