Cider is best as an autumn drink. Outside the Compasses, there is some late warm sunshine, which imparts an inner glow to the cider in my glass.
I know now that the agapanthus didn't flower this summer in its big pot because I failed to feed it as I should have done. But today we notice that the long, pinate leaves have compensated for the absence of flowers by turning a brilliant yellow, an ornament in their own right, and a contrast to the blue umbels that should have been.
Through the rear, upstairs window of a house, I see, from the street below, a front window, and through the front window, this afternoon's bright western sky.