When she returned to Riversleigh
the lights were on, the windows were opened to let in the fresh crisp air and the birdsong and of course the music that Riversleigh River makes as it winds its way by the big grand house.
She stopped before making her way to the door and for a moment, and for just a second the Sun seemed to fade, the air grew colder the birds stopped singing.
looked up to the house with no expression on her shadow enshrouded face and walked forward to the door.
She hesitated and then:
She knocked and the sound, that short brief knock, boomed through the halls, it rattled the windows and somewhere in the house- someone said:
” Throw another log on the fire. Winter is here.”