Autumn is beautiful. Who is going to deny that? It’s a jewel box palette of golds, bronzes, reds and yellows. People consult calendars, they read up, they’re inspired to plan trips and entire holidays chasing the perfect locations, greedily loading up their senses on the brief colour fest.
And to me, that’s where the sadness of the season lies. It’s absolutely stunning but whereas spring is a promise, autumn carries something of a threat. After the glory dies, then there is nothing but bleak midwinter to anticipate. The days are getting shorter, the light is failing and the magical mists are turning to fogs. It’s a short lived season, transitory, sandwiched between the two most often disappointing seasons and prey to such an array of meteorological conditions that the glory can be either very short-lived or barely even existent.
I’m glad however that I live in a climate where autumn does show. It must be strange to live somewhere where the seasons tend to bleed into one. I love the colours, the seasonal treasures. I love finding the first conkers, shiny chocolate coloured nuggets, and acorns, muter, hiding amongst the grass. I love scrunching through woodland paths strewn with fallen leaves. I love trying to capture all the wonder on my camera.
Autumn is a triumphal exit before the grey of winter, a scream of colour and a hamper of limited edition goodies. The threat and pessimism may be there but I’ll always try to make the most of autumn, however brief.