For a whole week, I've been getting up on dawn, walking in the early morning sun in a week of beautiful weather here in England. It's been magical to see the diffuse light shift across wet fields, meet deer out for a morning dart with white bottoms fluffing, and feel my heart sing with the morning chorus of birds whose song sweeps across the hills. Woodpeckers tap out loud song, pheasants cluck, and robins prettily trill. I look for badgers, with no success, but meet black and white dairy cows and nod my head at rabbits.

On Easter Sunday, I watch the sun rise from towards Frome to the east, because I woke up half an hour before dawn, see the moon outside my window, and grab my camera and find a hill where I can watch the magic unfold. I sit and meditate until the lava like flow rises up from the blue-black horizon and softens into the sky. Then, I grab my camera, and two worlds zoom into focus - the world of the dandelion, tiny and seemingly insignificant, and the huge sun which we all worship.

The photographs aren't perfect - I'm still working out how to get a super sharp focus, and am likely relying on my auto focus a little much. If I switch the lens to manual, I don't get as much of the dandelion in focus. But I'm happy with the photos - the blue ones have a softness to them that is reminscent of that softness before the full light of day, and the darker ones contain the drama of shadows and violence of sunlight breaking through the early mist. I'd love to pull the one below into an editor and fiddle with it a little - it captures those graduations of colour as the sun breaks through.

It seems appropriate, the sunrise, for Easter. I don't follow Christianity, but I believe in the sun - the life it brings, the hope it spreads. You can't be unhappy sitting on a hill and watching a sun rise. I think about what I need to focus on as my world has shrunk down, and it's certainly this - the sunshine, and the tiny things in my landscape that make my heart leap for joy. What incredible archictecture is visible in the orb of a simple dandelion or a nettle! How amazing it is to watch the daffodils bob their bright heads at us and show the promise of summer ahead, the primroses and the celandines and the ramsons?

What we turn our attention to in these times matter. The more I am grateful for what we DO have, the more I am content, happy even. As the sun illuminates a magical world, so too can my attention shine light upon how bloody wonderful life is, and how lucky I am to breath in harmony with all the creatures that take breath on this warm April day.