For three days the wind howled around the house I am never sure when it does that if it is a cry of pain or its attempt to strike terror into the hearts of those huddled inside. The rain came not like tears but like waves of miniature daggers hurling themselves against the old walls and anyone foolish enough to venture out. Darkness descends and winter strode into town with all the vulgar brashness it could muster.

Our small town however is not quite ready to give in to the cold look winter has cast us. For a moment it is beaten back now the weather sits stunned on the horizon unsure of what it is supposed to do.

The town holds its breath till not even a blade of grass moves afraid to draw winters attention. Birds hide untrusting of this quietness with the exception of one rather stunned house sparrow who sits on the fence across the road watching the thin band of brightness on the distant horizon gently turning the darkness over the town to a lighter grey. It bravely tries to expand its territory of light but the low cloud fights with steely determination to maintain its dominion over the town today however it will lose the battle as the light quietly nibbles away at the edges of darkness.

Gradually birds emerge from their shelters today they will feast on the rowan berries. The residents of the small town follow their example and life creeps out of heated buildings onto quite streets suffused with the last vestiges of autumn warmth.