It doesn't smell like autumn.
It doesn't look much like it yet either.
But the weather behaved like autumn on Saturday when I took Ceres to Frome.
Heavy mists hung in the fields and, in some places, we called
Even on the train breath plumed from our mouths - till it warmed.
There was a spider metropolis in the graveyard. Ceres wanted to wind webs round her fingers. I handed her the phone and she photo-ed instead.
We didn't get much further. We lingered like mist in the coffee shops. We ate cakes. We ate lunch. We lingered still longer . Then we came home.
.By evening, the mist had cleared and the sky had turned blue. (If you looked in the right direction.). .
For Tomorrow's Post . .
For Yesterday's Post . .