My eyes absorb fields rushing by at warp speed, catching glimpses of a solitary oak tree, pockets of cow parsley crowded in the sidings, a shock of red, a field of red poppies.

The blurry outlines of tree tops separating land from sky and as we slow to enter each station, the unexpected delight of wild flowers thriving in gravel between the lines, beautiful in their stubbornness.

We’re off again, just now a bank full of bracken ferns followed quickly by white tipped pink foxgloves.
A branch of sulphur green leaves in an otherwise deep green tree.
Wire cables slice through the sky above me and heavy perforated steel gantries are suspended like giant sequin waste. Disused warehouses reveal their secret history as they peel back their layers of paint, reclaimed by creepers.

Black clouds descend from nowhere dragging their net curtains of rain across the fields. A yellow glow that turns trees emerald. Rivers run against the window like tiny pathways until we are submerged, my view momentarily blocked. Clumps of Ox eye daisies stand tall in the face of the downpour, gossiping together as they weave and duck!

Blue skies again as we race forwards, no sign here of the storm we have just passed through only moments before. Ploughed fields of deep brown parallel grooves like a Kit Kat production line! Hawthorn hedges interspersed with hazel, beach and again a single proud oak.
My eyes are wide open, my fellow passengers never lift their heads.