Three scrapes

I assumed, from gazing down my garden from the kitchen window this morning, that the overnight temperatures had avoided negative numbers. The last two days have presented window ice on the car and, on Wednesday, it was quite tough stuff, or perhaps my ice chipping muscles have atrophied over the summer. I was surprised then, when trying to wipe the water from my car before coming to work, to find that the water was ice. Fortunately it was more like soft sugar icing this morning and only required a vigorous rub.
With the sun out, and the weather dry, and a few spare minutes for the journey, I took the opportunity to pass the custard maple on my way today. I slowed down to get a good look into its canopy, to see if it was doing its usual seasonal colour change. I think this year that the lower leaves may turn to custard, but in the upper branches there are signs of marmalade streaking.
The maple route, the longer route to work, takes me along one of my favourite local driving roads, across the forest. As the bracken browns and curls and the deciduous leaves fall, the sight-lines on this road improve, making it safer to drive fast and with a little attitude. On a dry day the bends and climbs sweep together into a short symphony of motion. The road was clear of leaves and so it was only clouds of chaffinches that were swept up as I barrelled along, with a smile. A few squirrels played chicken, the ponies kept, largely, out of the way and the deer, if there were any, remained invisible. My usual route has been scattered with pheasant this week, and a lone quail has always been on the verge, but I saw none this morning.
The trees are still partly clothed, the colours not yet fully turned, and yet, already winter is creeping in. Northerly winds blow harshly from Arctic latitudes. Only the sun's elevation betrays the weather as autumnal, rather than the coldest season.