Sometimes a day’s weather reminds me of another time and place. This morning in the Kinnaird Ravine it felt to me like London, England in fall. The mingling of warmth and rain, the fragrance of rotting and growing things. The way the light is muted by the clouds and stands of old, old trees. The path through the ravine is still wild. You may not think there is any wilderness left in London, but Hampstead Heath would argue back. And just twenty minutes from the centre of London is Greenwich where I visited one fine November day in 2009. If I were to give this photo a caption it would be the title of an old hymn: “How can I keep from singing?” That’s how I felt this morning in Kinnaird Ravine too.