Howling gales brought down the last of the crab apples on the tree opposite my office window yesterday. The sun is now shining on Carmarthen, West Wales, but not for long; the ferry crossings, Fishguard to Rosslare, have been cancelled for a second day - a real sign of autumn. The rose hips in my hedge are just turning that amazing shade of coral and the nasturtiums are desperately trying to get in one last flash before the first frost turns them to jelly. There don't seem to be many berries on the mountain ash this year. They say that if the birds strip the trees of berries after the first frost, it will be a hard winter - it won't be much of a feast for them in this part of Wales if that is so. I must remember to watch out for trees of crows' nests out in the country; my aunt tells me that nests low in the branches mean a hard winter, high up in the crown means an easy one. Which is best? The Welsh have a saying that a green winter means a full graveyard.

And on that cheerful note, back to work!

sian, west wales