Finally the Autumn has come to London- the leaves have started to turn.
It seems a very late start to the season- with Christmas now only five weeks away. However the dark and the cold is now upon us in earnest. Autumn always seems a melancholy season- Keats "Ode to Autumn" or Yeats "Wild Swans at Coole" seem the most appropriate backdrop.
I like watching the changing seasons- but although it is pleasant to see the turning trees in Hyde Park, I find the pleasures of an autumn in London diminished compared to the hills of the north. There Autumn is not only visual- you feel more exposed to the winds and chill and the season seems wilder and more embracing.
It is twenty years since I was a student in Canada. There the colours of Autumn were all the more intense- as though nature was more aware of the deep cold to come. The squirrels, black ones- grew fat as they prepared to hibernate (unlike the reds and greys in Scotland).
As mellow fruitfulness gives way to winter chill, another year prepares to take its leave.