Relishing the most glorious weather and just being outdoors.
Walking every day, sometimes for an hour around the neighbourhood, sometimes spending a whole afternoon wandering down secluded paths and alongside harvested fields.
Noticing an abundance of hips, haws, elderberries, unripened conkers, yellowing leaves.
Stopping occasionally to snip a late summer/early autumn posy from the hedgerows.
Adding yet more titles to the shelves.
Calculating that I'll need to live to a hundred and eleventy twelve to have any chance of getting through the book stash.
Taking stock in the garden and concluding it really was no contest, the slugs and snails won.
Meeting up with friends, enjoying lunches out and visiting an exhibition.
Making jam with just picked blackberries.
Hoping that anyone noticing the multiple scratches, welts and cuts on my arms will know they are the battle scars of fruit picking and not a desperate cry for help.
Spotting this scarf and casting on my own version.
Baking soda bread using a different recipe to that unsuccessful first attempt and anticipating something which didn't resemble a small grindstone.
Eating a couple of slices of the freshly baked and surprisingly unleaden and light loaf with a bowl of butternut squash soup whilst thinking, you know what, I'm really not a fan of soda bread.
Remarking on the nights drawing in and remembering my dad saying 'It's getting late early'.