As Ronald Blythe says, there are one or two days in every month when, even if you had woken up from a long sleep, you would know exactly what month it was. Today is going to be one of those days - or so it seems.
It is only nine o'clock in the morning but the sun is breaking through a thick mist. When I got up at 5am (couldn't sleep, another story) and looked out of the bedroom window, there was thick mist swirling but I could see a sliver of crescent moon through the mist.
Where the sun is breaking through it is a deep golden colour, almost as deep and golden as the leaves on the young beech trees up the sides of the Lane. The said lane is ankle-deep in dead and dying ash leaves, which always fall well before the beech here. And everywhere there are Autumny smells - dying foliage, the sharp smell of the rotting, maturing manure heaps every few fields (not an unpleasant smell at all now that it has been spread out), the smell of newly ploughed earth.
And, of course, in the garden there are the last few flowers - the rudbeckia, the schyzostlyus, the crocosmia - and that most poetic of all - the last few roses of Summer; and this year there are a lot of them.
Yes, it couldn't possibly be any month but October; and in all its glory today. I shall forget about the Winter coming on because October always makes me happy. It is after all my birthday month and always makes Hallowe'en special for me.
So enjoy your October day if you are getting a good one too. Alright, it might go and spoil itself later, but I shall enjoy it while it lasts, go and have a shower and go off to meet the 'girls' for coffee as I do every Friday.