Getting up as 6 am when it is still a little dusky in Cornwall and going with the dogs around the fields in the quiet before anyone but the farmers are awake. Walking around a seeing more and more as the light strengthens, picking up the odd large piece of timber fallen from a dying part of a tree, and seeing the odd rabbit dart away in fright or the merest glimpse of an animal I cannot recognise.
I realise that for all i have eyes I miss almost everything. The lights shines stronger but I cannot see the frost melting on the grass, I cannot see the rabbits cured up in their burrows or know if they can hear me tramp above them. I cannot see any of the insects crawling about in the hedgerows even when I peer in close. The only time I see the cobwebs spread across the fields like delicate icing is when they are covered with morning dew.
I know the roots of the plants are working away, that sap is rising in the trees, that bulbs and seeds are gradually awakening but I see it all only later. I see the results of all this activity. And maybe that is my place, but I miss not seeing all the effort that goes into making the world I see.