Our frequent ritual - walking to our neighbour's pond and the reflection of the leaves in the water.
A single heron flapped off into the distance, the first one I've seen here.
Maples mixed with fir trees loom over the dried out goldenrod.
And walking back to the road again along a timeless path. In the summer frogs croaked in the damp spots alongside but now it's getting chilly, they're silent and hunkering down.
A peep through the trees at the lake at the top of the lane.
And on the other side, the forest.
I see Rudolf's got a new outfit.
A classic scene in these parts - the mist rising over the hills.
Not so much fun in the early mornings when it's blanketing the roads. The local drivers around here still haven't learned to drive with their lights on.
Now it's back to packing for the trip south...
PS the deer were back again - "Oi!" I shouted, banging on the metal biscuit tin we keep for just this purpose, "What do you think this is, Richmond Park?" They just sneered, flicking their white feathery tails and cantered off nonchalantly. They know you can't hunt near a house. Heaven help the rhododendrons this winter.
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