I see, through the glass door of the oven, a straw-coloured Yorkshire pudding rise in airy mountains.
This morning, a blackbird sings as it gets light outside the window. It is the first I have heard this year.
In the shrubbery known locally as the Village Green, some periwinkles are in flower. I apply the macro-focus of my camera on to one the blooms with its five blue petals, and suddenly it seems more important.