What a pleasure to walk out to Old Harry Rocks this morning, accompanied by singing skylarks overhead and whitethroats evenly spaced along the boundary hedges. Even a croaking raven couldn’t spoil the harmony. Colourful butterflies were on the wing with frequent small tortoiseshells and common blues, occasional large skippers and a dark green fritillary. A pile of pigeon feathers beside the path indicated a recent peregrine kill, perhaps brought down by one of the three young that fledged from the nearby cliff nest. And so many flowers to choose from. My eye was drawn to the cheerful five-petalled flowers of rockrose. Herbalists used these in a potion to ward off attacks of panic and terror. Quite appropriate really when you’re perched on the cliff edge and a sheer drop below.