Sunday, 11 August 2013

This time of year always feels like the point when summer turns. It's as if the wind shifts, whilst the air may still be warm and balmy, a feeling of autumn descends. Perhaps the light is different, or the sound of the sky changes as the swifts and swallows and house-martins gather on telephone wires, and then seemingly evaporate into thin air, gone, to warmer countries for winter. 
The buddleia is in flower often covered in butterflies and bees gorging themselves on the nectar, and the rowan trees are heavy with clusters of orange berries which bring noisy blackbirds to feast. 
There can be a melancholy that arises from the change of season, the easiest part of the year done and autumn and winter to look forward to, or dread, depending on your temperament and circumstances. I think it is worth relishing each of the seasons as they turn and turn about. For now, late summer means berries and mushrooms and a pause to breathe in the last of the summer air before bonfires and mist and crisp frosts take over and lead us into wintry rain and cold and closed in nights by the fire, long nights, full of stars.


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