Lee's field- the one that abuts our lower field- is suddenly full of sheep. They moved in the day before yesterday- when I was tending my bonfire. Whenever I glimpse them I think of a poem by Walter de la Mare in which he sees what he thinks is a flock of sheep and then does a double take and realizes that they're actually sarsens. Sheep are very like stones- especially when they're all fleeced up for winter.
Our apples are holding up. We have them stored in the garage where it's dark- and at this time of year- cold. I just fetched a bunch in to make apple sauce.
There are still leaves on some of the trees. The seasons are running late this year.