An Autumnal chill creeps slow and surely into summers wake. Four days ago when I woke up and sat outside to drink my morning cup of tea, well, I could smell it in the air. Something had changed. Not just a drop in temperature, but a definite difference in the atmosphere. A tipping point – the scale of summer’s dwindling finally turns to Autumn’s rise. The shorter days are noticeable now. The plants that bloomed and blushed in summer’s glow (and didn’t we have a glorious summer’s sunshine this year?), are now tired, wilting, I can see they’ve had enough. Their strength begins to seep back down into their roots, a time to rest before it all starts again anew next year.
I feel it too. While I still sit outside every day, watch as the apples ripen and birds steal my blackcurrant berries, dragonflies careen from hedge to fence and back again in search of water, I know these days are coming to an end. Thoughts turn towards more indoor activities. I am better able to concentrate on writing and painting. A new school year approaches and Jay and I make plans of places we can go and other things he’d like to do.
I like it. I like the changing seasons. It is one of the reasons I wouldn’t want to live anywhere but the British Isles. We are blessed here to have the best of it all when it comes to the weather – perhaps that is why us British like to talk about it so much? We complain, but I think secretly we are thankful. Thankful for the rains that keep our green lands green, our meadows filled with wildflowers and our gardens – well – gardens rather than yards. And if it weren’t for the fact that our wonderful hot summers or even a single day of sunshine or snow, were so rare, we wouldn’t appreciate them half as much as we do.