Each morning a heron flies over my house. Sometimes there's just one, sometimes two, and this morning there were three. It's usually around 07:20 when I spot them in the distance, but this morning they were an hour later - who knows why? I don't know where they fly from, or where they fly to, and I never see them making the reverse journey, but I do so love to watch them. They cut such graceful figures in the air and are unmistakable as they languidly beat their broad wings; high in the sky over Southampton Water, by the marina, across the pier, closer, towards me, long legs trailing behind, over the house and gone.
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