That's what we call it at my house.
When a cool morning, with sunshine spilling through the clouds, soaking the pine and reflecting off the water dawns . . . it's a well set trap just waiting for a photographer to fall in.
And I invariably do.
September is here; like the introduction in a book, just before Autumn.
Normally I can't wait to start the first chapter, but this year I found I rather enjoy these first sentences. After all, if this is good, what's in store?