I’m working achingly hard this month – narrating the 200th Anniversary audio edition of Pride and Prejudice  – and writing the second draft of my new book.

And even though I don’t have time to hike up Monument Mountain or walk with a friend, as I put myself through the emotional roller coaster writing a novel seems to send me on, this time I’m surrounded by mountains and mist and burnished leaves.

I have to leave the house for most of the day because Tim the builder and his team of bangers are hard at work on the porch – on which I plan spending a great deal of time once it’s finished. (The delay, apparently, has to do with the building inspector taking his sweet time to drive half a minute up the hill to give Tim the thumbs up on the electrical sockets.)

As I head down the hill to find a quiet place to write before the kids come home and require feeding – which they seem to expect EVERY SINGLE DAY –  I get to see nature at it’s most majestic.

It’s only a few minutes walk and I am trying to figure out a plot point in my book – but the leaves are swirling at my feet as I do so and they are red and burnished brown and whoa! Feel the wind!