Well we're sat here in our gloomy living room with the doors to the garden open having moved logs from one pile to another ready for winter. Pat is reading Sherlock Holmes and knitting. I am reading Greg Beale and blogging. Catrin is in her room cramming Joseph Conrad passages. Gwilym is in his room crashed out.
But it's November 6th and the doors are open and it's 18° in here. I wonder whether we have moved from a classic four-season system to a new two-fold dry and rainy season climate ? Still, the bird are happily eating the pyracantha berries and for the moment there is a pause in the rain.
Calm contentment !