Downstream from its union with the River Till, the wide Tweed flows steadily past the grand Georgian country house of Milne Graden, on the Scottish bank. Debris washed downriver during floods is entangled in branches at least twenty feet above the present water level. The path leads between tall, papery stems of dead plants, drained of colour and ghostlike. A slight breeze rustles the dry leaves that still cling to the branches overhead, lending them the illusion of life. A path leads up the Newbiggin Dean to a high and proud viaduct that once carried the railway and still provides views of The Cheviot Hills, today snow clad beyond the black silhouettes of their foothills, and seeming ethereal, as if forming an unattainable fantasy land in the sky.

Spring has definitely arrived and new growth is burgeoning. Masses of tiny white flowers carpet the sides of the path, which now skirts the rocky sandstone precipice atop which Norham Castle stands and rooks caw. Ivy covers the rocks, which have been weathered into smoothly rounded shapes that expose their linear strata. But if you rub your fingers on them you can feel the rough, grainy texture of the sandstone. Sunlight dapples the path and shines through the leaves, and the breeze constantly shifts the pattern of light and shade. At last the woods end and the path leads out onto a riverside meadow, where the gorse flowers decorate the land with large dabs of vivid orange-yellow.

Horncliffe appears, perched on its cliff downstream. Fishermen wade mid-stream on their mission to catch salmon. A trio of oystercatchers ‘peep-peep’ their way across the sky. Seven tall cormorants stand on a shoal, some with the white patch on the thigh that indicates their breeding plumage, with wings spread, presumably drying. They unhurriedly glide downstream as you approach.