In praise of Seasons

Here at the bottom of the world it's the first day of Autumn, officially.

It's been approaching quietly, the sun taking longer to creep over the mountains each morning, lights going on earlier in the evenings. Mist in the valleys on awaking, dew deep on grass. Refreshing chilliness as the evening falls. The gale-force south-easter is finally dropping off.

And then there are the obviously noticeable signs - the golden glow of leaves in avenues and winelands - entire vineyards blushing deep scarlet or yellowing gracefully.

As much as I enjoy Spring after a long, cold winter, I equally enjoy Autumn. It's a quietening-down time, a period of change, a chance to button down and snuggle up. To haul out those warm and comfortable blankets, to bring on the soft jerseys and enjoy long afternoon naps with a handy hot-water-bottle or a couple of dog-warmers piled on the legs.

The final harvest from my summer garden comes in, the beds are cleared and mulched, winter veggies planted. The exuberance of summer slows to a trickle. Plants are stripped of the last vestiges of blossom and bloom, pared down to their bare essentials.

In an odd way I'm glad the summer's over.