It was the best of times, the golden light of a warm autumn afternoon made the land glow. It was the worst of times, our Teesside train was Redcar bound where so many jobs have just been lost. Who said April was the cruellest month? Slowing down, the train ambled on for a while before stopping completely. Out of one window was an expanse of smoky blue, the wilding Michaelmas daisies were in bloom over the acres of railway sidings. They aren’t supposed to be growing there. They’re supposed to stay in the gardens where they’ve been planted. Luckily they remember that they’re actually wild plants, native to European mountains and the Asian Steppe, and have a tendency to escape under fences and flourish in thin soils. The late-flying butterflies are glad they did; thei