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Algy left the forest and flew back towards his home by the wild ocean, fighting against the roaring north-east wind all the way. In the distance he could see the dual peaks of the Isle of Rum, dusted white with the first snow of the coming winter. It felt bitterly cold, and he wondered whether it wouldn’t have been wiser to have stayed beneath the cover of the great forest. He dropped down to the ground to rest by one of his favourite birch trees, amid a shower of falling leaves that were whirling round and round in the wind. Fascinated, Algy watched as he quickly acquired a pretty coverlet of russet, red and yellow, which glowed like pure gold in the autumn sunlight…

Algy wishes you all a very happy Sunday, and hopes that if you too live in these northern lands, you will manage to stay cosy and warm 🙂

When the gales moved away to visit Algy’s friend @funnyful in Sweden, the wind started to swing round and the weather began to change. Before long the world was full of colour again, and as Algy relaxed on the hard, storm-hammered sand, he could detect fresh new autumn scents and tastes in the air, mingled with the usual sea salt…

The season had definitely changed. When Algy woke up in the morning he felt a new but only-too-familiar chill in the air, and he found that the wind had developed extra teeth. It was undoubtedly autumn… but despite a very wet morning, the sun came out in the afternoon, so Algy hurried down to the beach, to watch the sea in its autumnal mood and to listen to the new sounds of the changing season as the strong south-westerly whistled through his feathers, blowing all the warmth of summer far away.

After a few days of bright but chilly sunshine, the sky clouded over and became exceedingly grey. The air felt icy, and it looked as though it might snow again at any moment. Algy and his new friend, little black Teddy, were sitting at the edge of the peat bog, surveying the desolate scene. Teddy was wondering whether he might not be better off back in Germany with his kind friend snirg-fundstuecke, but Algy explained that the West Highlands were not always this bleak; in due course, all the browns and blacks and greys would turn to greens, and by June the whole peat bog would be covered with the pretty, fluffy seedheads of the cotton grass, blowing gently in the breeze…