Day of the Dead

The Day of Dead follows All Hallows' Day. It is a day of obligation,  a day to walk to the cemetery, with Chrysanthemums maybe, in a somber mood, savouring the last smells of autumn, smells of white grapes, fog in the northern plain, logs burning inside rusty oildrums in  the street markets.

Today, the rain is finally falling in the back garden, the wind shakes down the yellow leaves, and it reminds me that originally I got the date wrong... I thought it was today. Ooooops.

Anyway, not a good day to slaughter chicken, you might concur. Better to sit back and reflect, maybe aided by a proper glass of something. On a day like this, that might have to be a decent Beerenauslese.


Some of these reflections will indeed be on the markets' likely behaviour in the next few days, and I will post them in our site. Maybe also evaluations on the overall year: better men than me are doing it, see for example the excellent  article by Auther in this weekend's FT Longview (not there yet).


But mostly, there are loftier things to mull about on such an afternoon. So I will cut it short here, wish you a pensive Day of the Dead, and go back to the Beerenauslese, the dead leaves, and the violons d'automne.