I went for an unusually long walk this afternoon, and the changes suddenly hit me. Some of the leaves are turning yellow now, the hawthorn berries are nearly red, and the swaying trees are no longer whispering, but rattling. I also noticed that neither the horse chestnuts in Church Lane nor the sweet chestnut at the top of Lid Lane had any fruit. Must be due to the cold spring, I suppose. No conkers for the kids this year, nor chestnuts roasting on an autumn fire.
Soon be time to get the chimney swept and the first batch of coal in. And then I’ll need a new novel or two for the fireside. I’ll miss my friends the trees when they go to sleep, and the lane at twilight never seems the same without the bats.