We celebrated the equinox on Sunday night with a ceremonial fire in the woods, crouched next to a ruin out of the wildest blasts of wind. As the full moon struggled to shoulder its way through the cloud-crowd, the bonfire roared 'enough' to winter.
This morning, I strolled towards the gate thinking how mild and calm it was and noticed the sound of kissing - lots of rapid squeaky little pecky kisses - and something like purring. Up in the highest branches of a rowan tree perched two long-tailed tits, like furry lollypops - balls of fluff on long stick-tails. One made a show of a twig in its beak, then fluttered off, nestwards. The other followed.
Love is in the air.