A thick damp dewy mist settled over Buxton during the night. Autumn is well and truly here. The nights draw in, there is a chill in the air, the leaves on the trees are either falling off or turning various shades of brown and soon our thoughts will turn to winter. But first there is the small matter of the Weasels eighteenth birthday party. She has looked forward to being eighteen for several years. “I can’t wait dad, I’m so excited, I’ll be able to do what I want and go where I want.” As I point out to her, in reality all this means is that she will be able to do legally what she has been doing for the past six months or so illegally. Still she is excited and so are we for her. It is a turning point, another milestone on the way.
Despite the mist and thick fog this morning, I spent a couple of minutes watching a Coal Tit feeding on the various seeds and bits of fruit that Mrs BW had put out in the back garden. It was a handsome little bird. Beautifully marked. Along with the sparrows it seemed particularly taken with the rotting apples and plums. I guess some sort of fermentation had probably started. If so we will end up with a garden full of legless (not literally, the cats are too old) birds. Should make for some amusing photographs.