The autumn has been beautifully mild so far. This is Princes Street Gardens yesterday, snapped very quickly because my bus was coming.
I don't think my photography would win any prizes. I was trying to get the Castle looming through the leaves but the camera has helpfully focused on the railing spikes. Still, the colours are prettying up in seasonal fashion.
Here's Granddaughter this morning, stopping mid-foot-chew to beam me a lovely smile.
And Grandson paused for a second from his playing to pose for me. He knows all his colours now as well as his numbers from 1-9. I would have expected the colours to come first but they didn't. Daughter 1 knew her letters at this age but I don't remember her being so interested in numbers. It's funny what children decide to specialise in and it doesn't really have much significance in the long run. After a while all the other children can also read or count or hop on one leg or sing or whatever.
Mind you, the other day I turned on the car radio to hear a piece of orchestral music that sounded vaguely Mozartian but less striking. It was pleasant enough, though unfamiliar. I listened at the end to find out what it was. It turned out to be Mozart's first symphony, written at the age of eight. I myself am struggling a bit with Grade 3 piano theory at the age of sixty-three.