First signs

Fire that was once outside, the pruned branches of almond and olive, has been brought inside. I suppose it was inevitable but the season has changed noticeably and dramatically. Where I was a few days ago on a promenade taking a coffee and enjoying a beach front walk albeit masked and distanced, I am now huddled inside blowing furiously onto kindling in the hope it will take. 

I suppose I should have seen it coming. The warm sun offering glorious light but no heat by late afternoon. The cooler mornings of clear light but no desire to open the windows onto a golden view. And, yes, the longer lie ins (a give away).

There have been bad days earlier this month: low cloud, fog and showers, bringing with it decisions to don chinos rather than shorts. But thunder and lightning seems to have heralded the change in a dramatic Thorian way. Rain drumming on the paved surfaces and a chill that penetrates the bones. 

With that came the first awareness of snow's arrival. The mountain's tip, so often these days shrouded in low morning cloud revealed itself briefly in a brilliance of speckled white, reflecting sunlight from behind a menacing bank of cloud. A small snowfall, like dusting on a cake, guaranteed to settle further as the season moves forward. 

Today is Thanksgiving. A day for Americans to give thanks for what they have. I should give thanks for the weather we have had up until now. Happy Thanksgiving.

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