Gold: that is the colour of the sky at the west end of the Grove this afternoon. No not a hint of red; nor of pink; none of that translucent green, you sometimes see at sunset. Just variations of gold surrounding the dazzling gold of the sun.
Two dogs play in the leaves. They snuffle and scuffle and chase each other through the rustling leaves. They seem to get the same sort of pleasure from the leaves that children do. But there is, surely, the added dimension of smell. The leaves must smell wondeful to dogs - of rot and corruption, and the last of the sap drying out.
As the sun gets lower in the sky, though it is still daylight, shadows seem to envelope the figures of people in the park. They seem two-dimensional and merge with the trunks of trees and shrubs as though camoflaged.