I just got on the bus and I am compelled to reflect upon the signs of winter here in Canberra.
As I walked down the street to the bus stop the tree that I have been gradually watching lose its leaves now has less than a dozen yellow cracked ones left and I suspect that the next good gust of wind that we have will take care of them.
The sky is a facinating blue grey making the sky look like something out of a painting rather than something that is real. The tops of the clouds when you can see them through the patches in the cover are a golden brown, the same colour as the grass in most of the fields around town.
The surrounding mountains still have light covering of know at the higher points and the fine mist rain that is slowly soaking the grown seems to be crystalising and waiting that bit longer before it hits the ground.