The fireworks of autumn fade slightly. The reds and yellows drift to sepia shades of brown. I need the thick fleece socks for my wellies.

My wellies came in handy today, shin-deep in muddy water, trying to push the tractor to dry ground. I'd misjudged the field. It was a messy reminder that no matter how long I live out here, and how much I love it, I'm still a city boy. So my first attempt at driving the tractor lead to a couple of clutch mistakes and getting trapped in a quagmire. I needed help to get out. Reverse gear remained a mystery to me until my second trip to the wood pile. What I'd thought was reverse was third. It could have been worse, and I confess there was a contented sense of well being heading back to the house in the dwindling sun with a trailer full of logs in the back.

I also got to use the word quagmire - always a bonus.

It's not a big tractor. It's one of those wee ones that you need an attachment to mow the lawn. And it's red, undoubtedly the finest colour for a tractor to be.

After work? A cold beer and Ireland thrashing Australia at the rugby. Perfect.

Most photos shall live here from now on - have a gander if you fancy. The road trip ones are up and there should be some more soon, as I've conquered the evil broadband demons. There's also a link on the sidebar to your right ---->