Today I walked up the hill into the sunshine of a clear, cool, breathless morning, so still one could hear the brittle leaves falling in the sycamore tree; overlaying this, the birds - robin, wren, goldfinch and siskin - sang against a depth of silence.
I tire quickly now when I walk, particularly on an uphill track like this one. I reckon that I'm only capable of walking half the distance I used to manage a year ago, and my steps are much more slow. This is fine, no-one gets younger, and I am fortunate indeed still to have enough puff to take me a mile or two, far enough to remove me from human noise and give me a few minutes in which to listen to silence and the fall of leaves.
We're forecast another week of this weather.
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