Everything in nature is a cog that spins on something else. A little signpost, if you will. Last month, I was visiting a site on the South Coast when a wren trilled and a rabbit bolted from the hedgerow. Not random, not meaningless – they were set in motion by a force unseen.

Then it emerged!

Stoat, known as short-tailed weasel in North America. I very rarely see these restless little predators.

Today’s flower is also here because of a quiet nudge, albeit a more human one. Back in the Bronze Age, when Stonehenge was built and agriculture was benefiting from new tools, farmers inadvertently introduced a number of new plants into the British wild. Sweet archangel – also known as red deadnettle – was among them.

Today it grows quietly, finding a niche for itself on forgotten road verges, painting sweet colour in this reluctant spring.

Soon bees will fly here because of it.

Nature’s cogs keep turning.