Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
The temperature is dropping, and our neighbors are laying in their winter fuel. (Eleanor is also stealing MY sweater for the walk home late at night.) A surprising number of homes are heated by wood, largely an artifact of the war, when people put in wood-burning stoves because there was no other fuel available. The air quality worsens dramatically in winter, but, oh, I can't wait to smell the wood smoke!