The gasman nay cometh

I waited for four hours sorting out keys and sweeping dust motes in the swirling wind. But the man did not come. Another gasman did but we were not on his list. So I skedaddled back to the Casentino in a high wind and brilliant sun.

My back was sore after a backing up incident yesterday - the Vecchia Fiesolana is a mule track that barely fits one car let alone two and yet use it we must to reach chez nous.

Collected wind thrown walnuts and admired the wild boar ploughing in the unfenced field. The temperature has fallen 10/12 C and there is an autumnal chill in the pulsating air.

I've blipped this view many times but it is always changing with the seasons. Most of the grapes are now in.