My walk this morning took me along Church Lane. The wind was stronger than a breeze, but not quite strong enough to be called a gale. (In spite of frequently finding pieces of arboreal debris littering the road surface. I hate seeing bits of tree dying on the cold black tarmac. I'm in the habit of picking them up and putting them onto the verges so they can go back to the land whence they came -- bit like rescuing earthworms, I suppose. Ah, the memories...)
Anyway, as I passed the creepy copse I was intrigued by a strange, consistent hiss coming from somewhere among the trees. I stopped and listened, attempting a solution to an unfamiliar sound. It stopped when the wind died for a few minutes, and then I realised that it was nothing unusual after all. It was but the rubbing together of old, dry leaves, a sound I've noted before as being characteristic of August, but in a new form.
A new song for August, no less. A change of key in the score to herald the movement that is autumn. And maybe nature offering a hint of the impending change in the climate.
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