It’s November now and what remained of the Indian summer is gone. Its hat and gloves time at least in the early morning.
Jack is definitely up. Having his coffee (iced of course) and cold porridge. He’ll soon be out and about turning the morning dew to Frost and ice. There’ll be black ice warnings on the roads. Lynn Bowles, the travel girl, on BBC radio 2 will be saying the snow gates are closed.
The big kid in me loves the first fall of snow or the Frost. But the driver hates it, Stella dies a dance like the chameleon in the desert but instead of “hot hot hot” it’s cold cold cold.
The de-icer will soon be in the vans and a thorough check of tyres undertaken although we do of course undertake our daily checks when we start work.
This morning is quiet, chilly but not cold and Stellas nose is into everything. There’s a light mist and a cloud bank with patches of blue sky emerging thru.
A solitary bird sings it’s own chorus, it seems confused as it gets no answer. There’s a heavy dew that’s not yet frozen but enough to get Stellas feet cold and wet enough to need a towel when we get home.
The usual guy dressed in Royal Mail uniform rides past on his mountain bike and Harris Way is coming to life, I can hear a young family getting called for breakfast the ching ching if spoons in bowls a healthy reminder that I need mine, so he ta for now until the next time!