You’d returned from your Saturday walk, and I was home from parkrun. As usual, our exercise routines had kept us apart. I invited you to join me outside so we could talk of our mornings. Pulling out a chair each, we looked out over the blossoming garden you’d grown.

At ten o’clock there was a suburban ease in the air that seemed to be nature’s acknowledgment of the weekend and our common need to regenerate. Seasonal restoration was at hand too for the day was mild and the sun appeared brighter and warmer. Along with the lengthening days, we dared to imagine it was Spring’s first brief kiss.

The magpie announced itself on the fence with a warbling, happy chorus. You said, ‘Come down here, maggie.’

And she did, hopping about on the lawn, singing and pecking out worms. She continued her triumphant song and you and I listened together. Our tickets were free and we remained in our theatre seats, motionless, wishing to not frighten away the star of this little concert.

She then bounced over to the pavers and picked up some shrivelled worms. I said, ‘Those worms are like that dried stuff, what’s it called?’ Ever helpful, you replied, ‘Beef jerky.’ We both laughed, but softly.

Then another magpie landed on the lawn. And a baby, fluffy and fluttering, on the other fence. A family. The first magpie ate some more worms and I said, ‘Come on, Mum, give some to the baby’ and you suggested that if the baby was hungry, it’d soon let her know with insistent squawking. I like how you know about these things. I’m always learning from you.

Sitting still on our chairs, we kept our voices low, wanting this tiny family to feel welcome. I murmured to the birds saying, ‘If you see me running down the street, don’t swoop me. Remember, we’ve been kind to you.’ The magpies rightfully ignored my silly commentary.

Their voices, peaceful visitation and flooding golden light made for a cathedral calm. In you, they recognised an admirer and a welcoming host. Those few minutes had been meditative and promising. I was grateful.

Then they flew away. We hoped they’d return to our garden.