Well here we have it, five days left of August, and the grey skies and yellow leaves waving about upon the branches in the rain tells us exactly that. Time has played that funny trick on me again, in one instant it is spring and the sun is shining for the first time since the winter months, forcing me to enter my wordworthian self, and in the next instant we have the marching approach of autumn.
Those very leaves that I rejoiced over their return to the barren trunks of the large trees in the window before me, will soon return to the ground and my boots shall crunch along to their beat. Roasted chestnuts, everything golden, the perfect time to plough straight into work, for it is somehow the winter months, which may bring on the blues temporarily, but is a time of hard work, I am no longer distracted by the sun, but race the daylight with my pen in hand. So time to continue, till soon.