Today is St Luke's Day, a good day for doctors and writers, as St Luke was both. I don't know why I feel so good about this time of year - it's as if it's full of good memories,
but I can't quite remember what they are. It's a golden time, with the trees turning and a feeling
of gratitude for every hour of sunshine. Today I walked home from the station through swishy leaves.
Especially, it's a time all of it's own. Just October. Just let it be October. It's not the time for thinking in terms of Christmas, and nothing to do with plastic black and orange things in supermarkets for Halloween. It's just warmth before winter, a time of sorting and settling and letting be.
October. The word sounds like something you can bite into, like a russet apple.
Which reminds me. I'm hungry.
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