A smudge of cloud catches the sun in an almost completely blue sky, the air has that cool feel of autumn. I sit outside and my sleeve absorbs the light condensation on the arm of the garden seat. Who knows how many early mornings like this we have left to enjoy. We will soon be muttering 'Winter drawers on!'

I sit and listen trying to mask out the sound of the first commuter heading towards who knows where. The early morning choir has long since brought its daily entertainment to an end. It is now the turn of the solo artists. The wood pigeon coos its coo to a correspondent down the road and gets its answer, and I am reminded of my father - he enjoyed its deep, soft sound and so do I. I hear the distant sound of the jay and as always silently say its name in Welsh, 'sgrech y coed', the screech of the woods, how could it be described in any other way?

A magpie sits on my fence and talks loudly whilst a silent blackbird hides under the blooms of the hydrangea nervously checking whether the coast is clear for it to forage in the damp grass for a juicy worm or two. All is clear and he starts his patrol at the far end of the lawn, he'll work his way gradually closer until he can see the whites of my eyes, just to show he is not frightened. And why should he be?

There is a busy rustling in the trees beyond my fence as an agile squirrel runs from slight to slighter branch, judging and adjusting his path along his very own super highway. I wonder if squirrels have a highway code, do they keep to the left or to the right? And when two squirells struggle furiously together on their leafy roadways is that road rage or something else entirely?

A crow caws nearby, another answers in the distance and a myriad small birds tweet, twitter, chatter and warble in the fresh September air.

The early sky now has a covering of tiny cotton wool balls, it is going to be a lovely day.

An espresso calls!