In between times.

This season seems to me like 'limbo land'; neither one thing nor another.

The mornings are cool, and the afternoons still warm enough for swimming. One could easily wear long trousers in the mornings before swapping them for shorts at lunchtime.

In the Chestnut plantations they are busy gathering the early falling nuts by hand; this will later be replaced by noisy machines when they start falling in earnest.

Baying hunting dogs, and occasional shots, can be heard coming from the woods, as the troublesome Boar and Deer population are reduced in numbers.

Vegetable gardens are being cleared of their depleted Summer crops.

We are halfheartedly preparing for winter, with fingers crossed that it will be mild. We are also praying for rain so that we will have mushrooms. The local vignerons will soon be seeing to their 2018 vintage, as the process of this year's wine making begins. Most field crops are already harvested.

The grass (what there is of it) hasn't needed mowing for well over a month; in fact I can't remember when I last mowed properly. No rain, no grass.

We still sleep at night with all windows wide open, and on top of the duvet rather than beneath it.

This is the period where I begin to find myself 'waiting'. Waiting for April or May when the busy cycle begins all over again. In the meantime we have about six months when little happens other than lighting fires, keeping warm, and surviving. Pleasant in its own way, but not my favourite time of year.