It is a perfect autumn day. The sun is out and the temperatures will peak in the mid-twenties. There is the gentlest hint of a breeze, just enough to bump the odd yellow or red leaf from it's perch. The contrast of colours in the back garden is spectacular: it's hard to imagine how the grumpiest soul could not be calmed by the warm tapestries woven in the way only the natural world can do.

This being Easter, and the Blue Mountains being a tourist destination, the roads are clogged with travellers, with some places being no-go zones for locals. For most people it is a minor inconvenience, but if you had to work and had no choice but use the roads, it might be a major frustration. Like bushfires, tourism must be lived with.

A few days ago I inexplicably lost my wedding band, probably while gardening. Extensive searches have failed to turn anything up but I will keep looking. It's a mystery how it happened, since I did have gloves on at the time. I will likely keep looking forever, I think.

'Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.'

Emily Bronte