It’s easy, in the hurley-burley of daily life to forget that we live in one of the most beautiful, spectacular places in England. There are weeks and weeks going by when I barely give the scenery around me a second thought. Worse still, I frequently curse the rain, driving winds and mud. Mud so deep it’s easy to wallow in and believe me it can be very easy to do just that when it hasn’t stopped raining for weeks and the dogs get coated in filth every time they leave the house, then they troop back inside, shake and whaddayaknow, we’re awash with mud everywhere.

This summer, once it finally got going, has revitalised our love of this place and the cold, crisp autumn weather this week has been stunning. This morning, I got up before dawn to let the dogs out and make tea. After another hour or so in bed, I volunteered to make croissants (make in the loosest sense, in fact, I opened a packet, slid them onto a baking sheet then popped them in the oven) so went back downstairs again.

There are no east-facing windows in our house so I rarely see the dawn breaking but this morning, I popped out to check the gate was shut before letting the dogs out and saw this sight. The trees in the foreground are on the boundary between our garden and field and the purple hills beyond are Dartmoor from across the Tamar Valley.

What a sight. I started my day realising that we take this for granted all too often. So, to demonstrate that I am telling the truth about our environment, along with reminding myself of our good fortune, I photographed it for posterity. You’ll be pleased to know that we also took advantage of it later in the day on a long, cold walk, where even though the sun had been shining all day, there was still ice on the moor.