|I wiz oot geein the grass its last mao afore the wintir 'n I saa a' the
deed leaves at the fit o the trees. It wisnae as cal as it hid been but the sin wiz rale
low in the sky despite its being jist aifter denner time. I caint that I widna be oot in
the gairdin again till aboot the spring that's haf a 'ear awa. It wisnae sadness I felt
but it wisnae joy neither. Wir in fur a lang slow winter at 'Simmer's Ine'.
||Whe mowing the lawn for the last time before the winter I noticed
dead leaves at the bottom of a tree. The sun was low in the sky although it was still
early afternoon. I knew that I would not be in the garden again until the spring. It was
neither sadness nor joy that I felt only the gracious acceptance of the changing pattern
of the seasons.