Country diary

The return of the swifts changes everything: the weather, the mood and the pace of spring. Through slashing lines and screaming curves, swifts rip up a blue sky above church fetes and village fairs where people can't believe their weather luck. These have been the hottest, brightest days all year so far, and the little country festivals that mark the turning season have their origins in ancient rituals.

One of the most symbolic events to have survived the centuries is maypole dancing. At Cound fair, children - including my granddaughter - held coloured ribbons and danced around a pole in complicated skips between each other to accordion tunes. Their weaving dance produced woven ribbon patterns and spider-webs down the pole before reversing them to free the ribbons again. Apart from the traditional symbolism of maypoles and spring fertility rituals, there is something very subtle going on that mirrors other natural events.

Watching the pond, I became aware of small dark insects with a glint of blue iridescence as they flew around emerging leaves, landing on them to mate on their tips. These were iris sawflies: only a centimetre long, they lay their eggs on yellow-flag iris leaves that the larvae will strip by August. But emerging for the first time this year, they danced in the air above the pond, each holding a ribbon of pheromones, weaving patterns invisible to all but themselves, binding their ephemeral lives to each other and this place. There are lines which join even the anarchic swifts to each other and their places. As the swift community screams through the sky above Cound church tower, mysterious stone gargoyles - full of irreverent mischief themselves - look down on people having fun in the bright May sunshine.