At summer's end

Ten days ago it was the autumn equinox, and last week we passed Michaelmas, another date traditionally associated with the arrival of autumn. We have been blessed with amazing weather for most of September, but the evenings are noticeably cooler and darker. This week moments of bright sunshine have been interspersed with the first thoroughly grey, wet days for a long while. October has begun and, much to my irritation, Christmas is in the shops.

One way or another it seems, summer has drawn to a close, and autumn has arrived. It is a season which brings with it, for me at least, an interesting mix of contrasting feelings and associations.

There are those days where the damp seems to seep through however many layers you wear and the sky is a monotony of grey meaning it never gets quite bright enough to switch off the lights.

But there are also those days where we experience the beauty of the trees ablaze with colour, shiny brown conkers, and long shadows cast by the afternoon light as the sun hangs low in the sky.

It's been a while since I have had the six-week summer break as a clear dividing line, so the shift from one year to the next has become a little more blurred than it once was, but autumn inevitably marks the end of various fun summer activities: holidays, days out, celebrations.

But at the same time, this is the time of year when I open a new diary and begin to fill its blank pages: making new plans, and looking ahead to what the year holds much of which is, as ever exciting and fulfilling.

This is autumn: 

Gloom and glory. Endings and beginnings. Death and new life.