My bedroom wall is awash again with honey sunshine.
There’s a nip in the air.
A flimsy veil of post dawn mist cloaks the neighbourhood lake. Waiting eagerly for the annual avian guests to arrive.
The dahlias in my garden have started to bloom. The fragrant frangipani has started to shed its leaves.
Autumn is ready to take a bow.
And winter all set to descend. On hushed tiptoes.
I cook panchmisheli murgi, a rustic chicken curry this morning, an old family favourite, chicken cooked with a melange of vegetables. Some chillies and peppercorn for that pleasant heat. Divine.