Even though we are sheltered by the hilltop woods and the side of the river valley, the wind is wailing, and I have skipped the evening dog walk. I did venture out with the hounds, well wrapped up and waterproofs flapping madly at lunchtime, but poor Rosie Roo with her naked tummy was shivering despite her coat, and the trees were roaring and flailing in a way that is not normal for trees, unless they are assaulting Orthanc. The fields are soaked and running with mud, and there are streams everywhere in places where there should not be streams. The roads are even fuller of potholes than usual and the potholes are full of water too.
At least the river has not flooded this time, but it all feels very gloomy.