To everything there is a season

Autumn has finally arrived. Leaves have very slowly been changing colour and falling the last few weeks, and this morning, for the first time this year, I could see my breath. I love this time of year, when the chill in the air is still refreshing after a long summer (in our case, a very long summer, having left an Brisbane autumn (which, of course, is not an autumn at all in any of the usual senses of the word, but you've got to call that time of year something) to come to a London spring), and being able to see your breath in the morning is still exciting. It's a time of change - for the pantry, stocking up on ingredients for soup and porridge and steamed pudding - for the wardrobe, packing away the summer singlets and skirts and digging out the jumpers and coats - for the gardens, as the late summer flowers have their last burst of glory for the year, and the leaves on the trees gradually turn green-yellow-orange-red-brown and finally fall and crunch deliciously underfeet. I love this time of year.