Goodnight. They were three months passing through the forest Virginia Frances Sterrett, 1920.

Most days, if I have time I walk to the 'first top' of the mountain commonage, and that's where I am right now. Up here, all the endless nonsense and debate seem to vanish, with a very special light on the ocean, the breeze in my face, a pair of ravens croaking overhead. Peace.

Late bloom on our overly shaded tea rose

Fair Isle aurora

When that first autumn breeze arrives and the leaves scatter into the air and dance... 🍂 🎨 Edward Robert Hughes

Me and my book judging everyone who says fairy tales are just for kids.