Can you hear Autumn?

This morning it was time to turn the calenders over to September and something has changed in the air too; these are the last days of Summer. Autumn is whispering to us all, especially first thing in the morning and late at night, the light has changed and suddenly it is present- it’s there in the chill in the wind, the liquid on windows, a damper more golden scent passes you in the breeze when you least expect it.

This is the Autumn of my twenties too and the urge to fit an enormous amount into these days and to achieve goals is seeming more and more urgent. Is this some kind of ancient call to finish things before hibernation? I hope future years won’t seem like I am sleeping through life, I hope I will be as awake as ever.

I want to meet you again Autumn but can we have a few moments more with the sun on our backs and the grass between our toes?

What is it about Autumn that seems to be such a change? Spring passes to Summer without us really noticing- and the last days of harvest become the first days of Winter just as quickly. Perhaps it is the uniqueness of the Autumn; it’s palette, smells and foods are more particular than at any other time of the year.

Of course I want to cling on to my sandals and taste my last ice creams, I want an Indian Summer, but I am starting to want Autumn too- to shop for a new winter coat and think about cosy scarves and wearing new socks that are a little bit tight when you put them on- and about getting on with life too- being productive.

After Autumn comes Winter- I am a child of the darkest and most bitter days, of the snow and the sun barely reaching up in the sky- and while I appreciate that Winter can be a black time in every sense I look for the cosy fires and warmth within it.

So there is so much to come- but Summer, stay a while longer will you?

Autumn

Autumn is the reigning King at the moment- dressed in splendid robes of burnt gold, orange and red. Summer is like the aged lion that is trying to make a last stand. The lion roared on Saturday but really it knows it’s supremacy has passed. Now it’s Autumn’s time. The hot cider is preferable to it’s chilled cousin at Borough market. You want a glass of red wine with dinner, not white or rose. You need socks (or even slippers) on in the house, and that extra jumper. You pull the blankets up tight around you at night and the scents you crave match the leaves on the trees- deep ambers, aged and warm.

Then there is the little Prince of winter. He is growing in power. You can start to feel his magic moving in- you catch it in the sharp wind over the bridges of London sometimes. You can feel it in the dew on the grass and when the darkness falls unnaturally early. You can see it on the stone cold walls of the churches which are mostly empty, they are almost aching for winter, for Christmas, to be filled with people and singing.

For now though it’s Autumn. The briefest but most magnificent of seasons. Put on your winter coat, get outside and kick the leaves. Long live the King of seasons.

The "Fighting Temeraire" Tugged to her Last Berth to be Broken up, before 1839
by William Turner.

Available from www.allposters.co.uk here.