A late summer day, very still, quite warm, very dry. Up here, at the top of the hill in Whiteknights, it is quiet, hardly any breeze at all. Looking down at the town below, it seems there is little activity there either but I am sure it is just an illusion. Reading is a busy, active place with farm folks selling corn and other wares.
My black horse snorts and shakes his head as I pull gently on the reins to hold him steady. I wait by the milestone as that is our designated meeting place and reflect how very mild, how peaceful it is in a spot like this on a rare, warm autumn morning. Late afternoons and evenings are chill now. Autumn breezes carry a warning of winter to come and are already active in late August. I reflect that, although our climate is terrible overall with excessive rain,
