Autumn has come to Rutland. As I look out across the lawns from my Library windows, the skeletons of distant trees stand stark against the low skies. Nearer at hand stand piles of leaves – and from one of those comes muffled cursing and swearing. I fear that, in a surfeit of enthusiasm, one of the undergardeners has dumped them on top of Meadowcroft.
But my thoughts are far away in the Welsh Marches...
No comments:
Post a Comment