The seasons here are quite confusing. Now the calendar tells me it's November so I know it is Autumn, but without a calendar to help me, I could be forgiven for thinking that it is Spring. We have had a row of beautiful days. I went for a stroll along the beach this afternoon and I was surprised at the changes that have taken place since I was last there a week or so ago. We have had some substantial rain fall as well, so the wasteland is suddenly green and lush, a big improvement on the brown scorched scrubland we saw when we first arrived. There were flowers bursting into bloom everywhere. These pretty orange daisies grow out of the rocks all along the coast but I also saw gardens full of colour from roses, hibiscus and oleander, with vibrant patches of the ever-present bourganvillia. The sun was warm on my back without a hint of burning, like one of those unexpected glorious days in May when it seems to be practising for the summer you hope will follow. Two butterflies were playing tag in front of me and the birds were also enjoying the day, singing their little hearts out. The sea was clear and still and I couldn't resist a paddle. (How very British of me!) It was cold, but without the aching numbness you expect when you are foolish enough to dip your toes in November. One things for sure, counting my blessings calls for some pretty high numbers just now!