Autumn
I was looking the other way and when I turned around, Autumn was here. I think it is my favourite season. There’s something about the smell of it, the crispy leaves and the clear blue skies. I know it can rain too, but so often it’s clear sunny days bring a smile to my face followed by the chance to snuggle up as the temperature drops in the evening. Yesterday as I ran through Battersea park, the sun was that truly golden colour that it only ever is at this time of year. It’s a great reminder of how amazing creation is and how the changing seasons are a great gift that lifts our spirits just as we’ve become too blaze about the season that is just finishing.
Anyway, it was with glee that I read Mr Stephen Fry’s post which I have copied below. It’s not just me then…
By Stephen Fry
September 9th, 2009I walked into town this morning, four and a half miles gently downhill into the bowl of London, the chalk basin where Soho, Mayfair, Bloomsbury, Marylebone and divers other of the villages that constitute the West End have their jostling, bumptious beings.
There’s that thing in the air. That thing. That thing that goes with the first yellowing of the leaf, the hint of chill in the air, the extra urgency of bicycles and the bright blue brand new George of Asda V-necks worn by schoolchildren on the pavements starting the new school year. That thing that stings the nostrils and fills the brain with an equal measure of dread and delight.
And the conkers. Conkers gleaming like jewels in their split pods. Conkers rolling into the road, splattered by four-by-fours late for the school gates. Conkers ready to be strung and swung in the playground.
Summer, spring and winter have their qualities, their affinities and associations (”Where are the songs of spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too” or words to that effect) but this time of year alone summons the terrors of termtime.
