Last night the weather forecast was for a dusting of snow – the first snows of winter, they said, although it is still autumn and we are still operating on British Summer Time (until tonight). Of course, a statement like that from a weather forecaster is enough to make you dig out your swimming togs, then try to find the garden sprinkler and get it set up on the lawn, ready to lie under, in preparation for the hottest October day for twenty years.
Imagine our surprise when this morning broke bright and clear – with the roofs and the field covered in, “A Light Dusting Of Snow”. Off we went for our morning constitutional with the air bright and clear and crisp. And also very cold on the nose and the ears, this is the first time I’ve worn my gloves since last winter.
Standing at the gate waiting, while The Dog checked to make sure that this was our road and that only the postman had been this way today, we noticed a gentle trickling sound a little like water but quite clearly not water. It seemed to come from the trees in the wood behind the house. Looking up we could see tiny showers of leaves detach themselves in a companionable sort of way from the branches high in the tree tops and trickle down through the lower leaves rustling and whispering as they fell.
It made leaf-fall seem less forlorn and more like a group hug.