Autumn Sunshine

If there's one sound that's symbolic of autumn it's the calling of a skein of geese strung out across the sky. These geese flew across Kilchoan late yesterday afternoon, by which time the recent spell of damp weather had cleared away.  On Thursday and Friday we had a total of 59mm of precipitation dumped on us.  The hills shrugged it off, the burns ran white and angry for a few hours, but there was no flooding.

This is dawn across the Sound of Mull this morning on what promised to be a fine day, so we were up in good time and climbing the hill at the back of our house.

The ground was very soggy underfoot, and we're careful how we go in these conditions: climbing uphill is less hazardous than going down, when it's all too easy to slip and fall.

The bracken has died and turned gold and brown and, much as we dislike it, it does look lovely in the autumn sunshine - this view looks across the slope of Druim na Gearr Leacainn to the green fields of Kilchoan on the right, behind which stands Glas Bheinn and, to the left, the heights of Meall an Tarmachain.

Our walk took us westwards along the ridge, until we looked across the valley against which Druim na Gearr Leacainn ends to the next hill, Dubh Chreag, the black crag.  We've seen red deer in this area over the summer and, once, a pair of foxes running through the valley, but there were no sign of either this morning.

Some things are thriving after the recent wet weather, not least the toadstools, these ones glowing in the autumn sunshine, and although people are saying that this year's good blackberry crop is over, it isn't in the hills, where there are still plenty to be picked.

The Coal Tit has finally relented and joined the throng of small birds working their way through the peanuts.  He's still very nervous, and tends to flit from one feeder to another, but his attention was concentrated on the food for just long enough to get a couple of pictures.  We're now looking for the Siskins to rejoin us.