The extra daylight hours are such a welcome addition.

It’s my favourite time of the year – renewed hope, fresh life and stunning spring colours wreath the Oxfordshire landscape.

Sandwiched somewhere between the Rollrights and Over Norton, my mother joined us for a family walk just before the sun went down last Sunday, the perfect end to Mother’s Day.

Betsy is now walking at 14 months and enjoyed being swung by Simon and I, just like I had done as a little girl. I remember tugging on my father’s long trench coat pleading with him to keep on swinging me, a game I would never tire of.

As my mother walks for miles on an average day, spending much time hiking along the Jurassic coastline in Dorset with the dogs, she strode on in front until she was out of sight. Suddenly a voice boomed over a hedge... “Let’s play Betsy finds Grandma”.

Helped by Simon and I, Betsy located her grandma standing in a field slightly concealed by a large overhanging branch. It’s these moments, however silly, that make precious memories.

But locating Grandma is not a talent both of my children seem to share. My son lost grandma on a recent walk in South Oxforshire with the three dogs. Not something that was premeditated you understand, it wasn’t a cunning plan, they just became temporarily separated.

I haven’t yet established how it happened but the first I knew of the dilemma was when I received a text from my son Ben which simply read “SOS I have lost Grandma”.

The Oxfordshire countryside is not unfamiliar territory to my mother, there aren’t too many blades of grass she hasn’t brushed by and there are few stiles she hasn’t swung her leg over. But this was one of those rare walks that she didn’t know too well. There is no dramatic ending, no nailbiting rescue (as has gone before involving the Dorset coastguard) but simply a happy reunion between my mother and my son.

Meanwhile, our neighbours invited us to the christening of their five-month-old daughter at St Mary’s in Chipping Norton. The baptism was worked into the regular service with many of the Chippy community attending. Everyone joined in and the only thing that separated the christening party from regular worshippers was some rather delicious quiche in the parish hall afterwards. I wasn’t too familiar with the services of the crèche during Sunday worship but I’m all for it. Children can find long sermons a little boring and they’re not entirely alone, as was evident among the adults too.

However, Besty was so enamoured by the Rev during his sermon she sat transfixed at the end of the pew. Any moment I was sure her first word “wee wee” would resound through the church. The congregation were spared, although shortly after she did end up one pew back between a mature gentleman’s legs.

As the Rev spoke of climate change and recent flooding the roof of the church was suddenly pounded by heavy rain so timely that my husband thought it was orchestrated sound effects. Now that’s what I call divine intervention!