A pair of black oyster catchers on the beach; one pulls up a leg, pretending injury. I sit on thick grass overlooking the sea and a black cricket hops on to my hand, waving its fine antennae. A million ants have invaded the bach loft, bringing a million tiny white eggs. They’ve infiltrated stored papers, boxes of art materials, even cassette tapes. Rats and mice start attempting to invade at this time of year but a black cat now prowls the land, leaving the old rodent corpse on the driveway. It’s the creatures that signal the need to draw in and hunker down.

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