KESWICK: I went to the old railway in the valley today to record some of its history, but I was seduced by its summer beauty. Few things go wild faster than a disused railway, and although this one closed only a few years ago, green life is already taking over. Small plants – clover, red clover and rue de sel – stand in the middle of the tracks, and the sides are dotted with flowering grasses, meadowsweet, campion and valerian. There is an abundance of young trees everywhere, mainly hazel, willow and birch. Today the whole place smelled of summer, and there was a constant movement of the waving grass and the irregular flight of butterflies and moths. In the cool crevices of the rocks grow mosses and liverworts too varied for me to know them all, and in the wetter places cascades of ferns – spotted fern, oak fern, hard shield fern and the long green stripes of hart’s tongue.

Early mornings are the best time for the queue, even if few people come now, then all is as it is. A large hare sat in the middle of the path as I pushed away from the bridge, and seconds later she was joined by a young hare almost as big as herself, who sat up to wash his face cat-like, with care and precision. Later, I paused at the end of a rock cutting as a deer quietly emerged from the hazel bushes (without seeing me) and gingerly picked its way across the stones, which were obviously as hard on hooves as it was on feet, leisurely plucking the tender flowering tips of the willowherb as it went. History can wait, summer now cannot.