'Tis only September the second, but the seasons are rolling on.
After the "unsettled" August, we awoke in Millbrook this morning to a sight than can be described in more than one way.
Nicky, who Mrs the Millbrooker and I met in the village this morning, used the word "fog"; she is undoubtedly an earlier riser than we are and when she awoke it might well have been fog.
To my eyes though it was an autumn mist, rolling over Maker - I rather like the beginning of autumn: the warmth of the sun mingled with a the chill of a sea mist is a wonderful sensation.
Call me an old hippy, call me a fatalist, call me what you will - I love the changing of the seasons.