It is one of those windy days when, if you look in certain directions, the sky seems to be moving, as clouds scud past patches of blue.
In the Grove, when I look towards the east, (a contrast with the sky in a north-westerly direction) there are mauvish, leaden clouds, against which the white-fronted houses in Buckingham Road, show up, brightly lit by the lowering sun.
The branches of horse-chestnut trees terminate in sturdy, clearly defined, sinuous, black shoots each of which carries a chestnut coloured leaf bud, egg-shaped and glistening in the afternoon sun.
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