It's definitely not Summer anymore. The clocks went back on Sunday so it's now getting dark at about 5pm. It's warm coat weather; it's changeable, volatile, blustery deep Autumn weather.
On Sunday it was the best. It started off muggy and miserably wet - you know that fine penetrating drizzle that really gets to you. I went into town and everyone seemed moody. People were shoving; umbrellas clashed. By the time I went home though, the sun had come bursting through the clouds and there was a huge great arc of a rainbow: a whole arc. Low black clouds and bright blue sky, and this magical bridge of colours. I wished I had my camera.
It is windy, and flocks of leaves are swirling around in the sky like tealeaves in the bottom of a cup. In our garden, the vine leaves have turned a deep, glorious red, and they are falling. Soon our trellises will be bare and we'll be able to see straight through into the neighbours' gardens.
What I love most of all, however, are those late roses. The roses keep flowering into November, bravely against the cold. We've taken better care of them this year and they're flourishing in their final blaze of ephemeral beauty. It's wonderful.
I keep thinking of that song by The Be Good Tanyas, Scattered Leaves. It has a story about a love that's ended, one who's returned and the other who's moved on, but I love the way it captures the beauty of the season and the sense of time moving inexorably to the next cycle. As the seasons pass we all lose things, the past becomes past, but as the song says, "that's just the way when you walk your days in the beauty of this world".