IT is that time of year when everything seems a little different, especially after the summer we’ve just had.

The evenings are a little chillier. The mornings too. The light is changing — that beautiful western light that has drawn so many artists and dreamers.

You can’t eat scenery, they say here, and that’s true. Thousands and thousands of Irish emigrants can testify to that. But year after year, you can still look at it with wonder.

The black crows are starting to flock late in the day and, in the lazy afternoon, the swallows are beginning to gather on the telephone wires. The moon seems that little bit more obvious. The year is definitely changing.

I knew an old fella here who, before the first week of January was out, would say: “The year won’t be long going.” I often smile, remembering him at these times of change.

In the spring, they say the day is lengthening by a hen’s step each evening; in the autumn, that the days are drawing in.

The days are drawing in.

This time is very evocative for........

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