Today was one of those perfect autumn days that is almost like a perfect spring day.
It was the kind of day poets sing about and singers wax poetic about. A day that no matter where you looked the edges of your line of vision were coloured cheerful blue.
The butterflies were out. Mini ones hardly able to believe winter was almost over. The birds were too. All shapes and sizes engaging in their very own air show.
Children filled the morning with cries of pure glee as they pulled out bikes and balls. The sounds of tyres and running feet pounded the pavement.
We did the gardening all day – cutting back vines, raking leaves, mowing the lawn. It was bliss to feel the warm sun on our backs and to see the colours in the garden burst into life.
After a few hours our joints ached. We guzzled down jugs of cold water from the fridge. Apples too. Red delicious that tasted more delicious the colder they were. They crunched at every bite; the juice running down our chins.
As the day ended the sky began to resemble velvet. Blue shadows lay upon indigo clouds until the sky was the softest eiderdown.
The magpies sang in chorus as they headed for their roosting places, flying in synchronised flocks. Their joy in the day was evident.
The air was sweet and fresh, the chill, closed-in feel of winter almost banished. As the silhouettes of trees and houses turned to charcoal the moon poked out. A silver crescent smiling down. The perfect end to a perfect day.