For many of us the seasons are changing, bouncing unpredictably between cold and warm. Are you glad to be moving into a new season, or wishing for one more week of the old? Photographers, artists, poets: show us SEASONS.
It was rude, the way Autumn slammed the door in Summer’s face, weeks before the equinox arrived. There was no grace period this year. No overlap of seasons.
Hats and gloves had to be located and summer clothes, put into boxes. Spent flowers have been cut back, daffodil bulbs planted, hoses and mowers put away.
The bluebirds have been gone for a week. Flickers and starlings visit now, picking berries off the mountain ash. Murders of crows dot the stubbly fields.