This morning, my hair smells of smoke and then, of snow. Hailstones have been falling down the chimney and the wind is so loud we can't sleep at night. Winter is upon us and this morning there is snow on the mountains across the bay. The tide has gone as far out as I've ever seen it - there's a new moon. White gulls circle the rocks and black crows follow them, ready to finish off whatever they leave.
|Bonfire on the shore|
Once back, we stand well away from the fire, which is (to start with) about three metres high and rapidly devouring the random bits of furniture, old bits of boat and shed planks that have been put on it.
|The shed...luckily not on fire!|