Driving round the rape fields again this morning with my gun (we have more pigeons than for years) I was struck once more by the beauty of autumn leaves. Some have fallen into colourful piles under the trees that bore them; others cling to the branches waiting for the next breeze to blow them off. All exhibit wonderful autumn colours; reds, browns and yellows, in various shades. I felt how fortunate I was to be able to enjoy them at such close quarters.
My feelings of well-being were enhanced by the fact that early drillings of winter wheat are looking well and that more recent drillings (after sugar beet) are just emerging. We plan to plant a few extra acres when more beet have been lifted in a few days time. But otherwise we are well up to expectations with our autumn work.
Funny, isn't it, how you can have such an awful year of weather and yet forget the droughts and the floods and the dreadful harvest and the poor yields when you have one season as ideal as this autumn is proving. And having wondered a few months ago why you took up such a frustrating profession all thoughts of packing up are banished by a morning like this.