It’s the best kind of late summer day, with bright sunshine and a temperature as high as anything we’ve had this year. The smell of new-mown grass carries on the warm breeze and from a few fields away comes the muted drone of a tractor. Emerging from under the bridge the river curves sinuously as it crosses the sand on the final stage of its journey to the sea. But unlike it, rather than heading for the beach I take the path behind the low dunes. It is edged by a riot of plants, some still in flower.

The violet-blue flowers of common vetch stand out from the luxuriant tangle of its intertwining leaves, while clumps of purple thistle-like hardheads rise above them. The remains of umbelliferous hogweed, dried ochre seed-heads atop brittle, ridged stems, make sculptural statements amid the foliage. Scattered liberally throughout are the cheerful yellows of the autumn hawkbit.

With the exception of the two sandy lines kept clear by the passage of the crofter’s tractor, the path itself is half-covered with plants. Various grasses, now sporting feathery flower heads, grow along its centre, while from its margins, silverweed has sent reddish, tendril-like exploratory stems across the intervening space. A common darter dragonfly, almost identical in colour to the silverweed stems, rests a moment on the patch of sand they are attempting to bridge, then takes off again.

As the path dips through the dunes the warm breeze is no longer discernible. Several green-veined white butterflies flutter past and a red admiral settles briefly on a thistle, wings moving gently in the sunlight.

Turning from the track I climb the path that leads over the dunes to the beach. Before me is a curve of white sand and a lazy sea of glorious Hebridean blue, breaking with a gentle whisper on to the shore. At the water’s edge, a group of oystercatchers, head beneath wing, doze among a few strands of gleaming kelp left behind by the falling tide.

The Birds of North Wales, this year’s memorial lecture in honour of the late Country diary writer William Condry (thecondrylecture.co.uk), by Jonathan Elphick, is at Tabernacle/MoMA, Machynlleth, 1 October, 7pm for 7.30; £5 including refreshments (no need to book)