There's a cow bellowing fit to bust half a mile away, and close by, horses already wearing their winter coats make soft gentle sounds under their breath behind the hedgerow as they graze their way gently round the field. The sky's lighting up now in all directions, purple lifting to red and gold, as a pale nearly full moon rises in the east, and the sun disappears in the west. The neighbour's dogs protest as we pass their gates, noisily, from somewhere behind the house. And I make my way home to the fire.