I’d ridden to today’s square straight after waking up, so still felt morning fuzzy as I sat on a log to settle into the woodland and sip coffee from my flask. The ground in the hollow was covered with a carpet of leaves, brown beech, tawny oak, orange sweet chestnut, yellow maple, and emerald moss. A brilliant blue sky framed the few leaves still lingering on the branches of silver birch trees. This was likely to be the one of the last days of late autumn colour, making it even more precious. Winter’s onslaught was being held back by these occasional autumnal flurries, but there would not be many more golden mornings until next year. 

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