Here comes the chainsaw

The chainsaw is being serviced this weekend. Back to where it belongs tomorrow. There are the remains of two apple trees in my shed to cut into manageable chunks for chopping into firewood. I've had the pile of wood for eight months and done nothing about the chainsaw. Now that colder nights are drawing in, and we've had a couple down to 2C, having a decent fire in the living room becomes central to our comfort. The wife and I sit in our chairs and warm up gently. The dog lies with his nose in the fire until he cooks and then he moves back to wrap himself round our feet. It's a cunning move designed to trip us when we get up to make a cup of tea/coffee/etc.

There was nothing to show for last night's incredibly heavy rain this morning except for glistening paths. We escaped the strong winds down on the coast. But gentler breezes have blown heaps and heaps of multicoloured leaves up against our door [We don't have a back door!]. The trees are now leafless or - as some would have it - bare/naked. When I took the dog out this afternoon nearly all the trees in the field were almost completely bare except for the oaks. And, I think Darwin would like this one, the outfield of the cricket field is covered in thousands upon thousands of worm casts. I can't even begin to count them. They are changing the colour of the grass to brownish-green!





The dog was disappointed that there were no Greylag Geese grazing in the field. In past years the population has been about 60 - 70. This year conditions have obviously been particularly good for breeding as there are at least 120 grazing and arguing with one another. I love the sound their wings make when they take off as a group. It's like a thumb being run through a giant comb. A group of five came in formation over our heads heading towards the lake. They were honking as though telling each other to maintain formation. Perhaps the leader was talking to the control tower!