Maybe I’m changing my opinions about Easter. I’ve been off work for three days and there’s still one more of the break to go. During this time, nothing special has happened, but it’s been lovely. Each day, me and the Little Dog have embarked on epic treks of completely familiar territory, taking in the spring sunshine, yet chilled by the persistent winter.

The past three days have seen us both set off on our usual walk down the local woods, taking the former canal path along the disused and barely recognisable canal that runs alongside the river as it makes its way towards the big city. Watching him explode like a shot from a gun as soon as I remove his lead brings the deepest joy. Seeing his lopsided running reignites my suspicions that he was the last one left in the litter for a reason. He’s not the sharpest tool in the box, but he loves to run… and sniff… and play with other dogs, irrespective of whether they’re bearing their teeth and growling at him to back off.

The woodland that we go to is part of a country park that has grown out of industrial wasteland. Emerging from the undergrowth and hidden by trees, remains the brickwork and other telltale signs of the coal mining heritage in the area. The former canal is a graveyard to a few barges that have died with it, just the skeletons of their bows persist, poking up from their leafy tombs. The whole area now hides that the lives of over thirty souls were lost to mining accidents.

As a child, and as an adult, I read C S Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia and his description of how Caer Paravel became an unrecognisable ruin, where nature had reclaimed the man made structures, and it reflects on how this area has been reclaimed in such a short space of time.

Given its chance, nature will always triumph.

The children in the playground are probably oblivious to the history of the place, and good for them: they’re there to play and burn off energy. Families enjoy walks around the man-made lake and feeding the waterfowl at the jetty. Anglers spend entire days camped out there, doing whatever it is they do (smoking skunk is my educated guess). We dog-walkers are introduced to each other through the enthusiasm of our canine companions.

I greet this time of year with much happiness. The lighter evenings afford daily visits to my favourite dogging venue. The Little Dog gets to exercise properly and return to his optimal weight, whereas I never do. He’s a little out of condition at the moment, the awful weather and dark evenings have provided little opportunity for proper exercise. But the past few days seem to have worn him out, judging from the snoring coming from under the bed.

I’ve not changed my opinions about Easter, nor have I changed my opinions about having a four day weekend; I’ve just learned to make the most of it.