All the time it’s been snowing, I’ve been thinking that I never posted the pictures of the leaves turning colour.

The orange tree (above, left and in the middle below) is a maple, and, after they had fallen, the leaves that covered the ground smelled just like maple syrup without the sweetness.  I looked forward to walking past it.

This pile of wooden paneling has been there for a year now.  The man who left it is going to use it on his house, whenever he gets around to it.  The house is fifty yards up the road.  So why did he leave it by the field?  This is the kind of thing we think about in the country.

I took all these pictures one day when I went for a walk with Topsy.

It was Saturday the ninth of October, according to my computer: John Lennon’s 70th birthday and Uganda’s Independence Day.

But I think of it as one of the last days the goats grazed in the pasture above the house, one of the last days before they realised that the cattle grid had been covered over for the winter

and they could now trot down the hill and munch their way through the neighbour’s garden if they felt like it*,

one of the last days, in short, before we confined them to our garden.

Well, nobody likes winter.

 

*So far the goats haven’t figured out the Yorkshire sheep trick that dearieme told us about.

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