Today’s wild was taken through the eyes of my grandchildren as we left tablets, iPad, laptop and TV behind. The picnic had been prepared by mum, who we had sent off happily to work on this bright, breezy and sunlit day.

We weren’t quite out of the car when my eight-year-old granddaughter was enthusing about a ladybird sunning itself on a patch of comfrey which, now being in flower, was also hosting bees. Her delight at pointing these out was at the least infectious if not fit to bust with the simple side of wildlife that had greeted our arrival.

Wildflowers, some which I could name, hosted common blue butterflies, cinnabar moths and other insects which just had to be seen and if possible photographed.

Swifts simply wouldn’t slow for a portrait picture whilst a yellowhammer sang for its lunch. We re-remembered its song with relish: “A little bit of bread and no cheese.”

The peat sprang like a cushion as we wandered over it - why can’t they make the soles of shoes this soft.

Natures turnstiles, as my grandson had previously referred to a small stands of silver birch, had to be negotiated. The odd dragonfly came into view and had to be, you’ve guessed it, photographed..

Pieces of purple moor  grass were held to the breeze to discover its direction (westerly),  cotton-grass just had to be touched and buzzards just had to be watched.

We had a picnic in the car to finish – “Look at that field of barley having a Mexican wave” as the westerly breeze swept over it.

We made a retreat home with mum back from work, and an ice cream treat to reward us for a day in the wild rewarded.

As for me? Well that’s how I see nature each day. My wife would say: “Being a man you never grew up. Why would I, when the wild gives such simple lasting joy?”