Early signs of Spring on the moor

There is a point in early Spring when the landscape begins to shift, though almost nothing at first appears to have changed.

The ground still holds the memory of winter, the colours remain subdued, and the air carries a quietness that feels familiar. And yet, in small and easily missed ways, something begins to move.

The first Curlew calls have started to carry across the moor in the early mornings. Their voices seem to arrive before anything else, long and wavering, travelling further than the eye can follow. Not long after, the Lapwings begin to return, their flight low and turning, touching the ground and lifting again.

Golden Plover pass through more quietly, their presence often felt before it is seen.

These are small signs, but they mark a change in the rhythm of the place. The light sits differently across the peaty brown, and the edges of the day begin to soften.

It is a time that asks for a certain stillness — to stand, to watch, and to notice what might otherwise pass unseen.

These early movements in the landscape often stay with me when I return to the workshop.