After a long and terribly hot, humid summer, the first — welcome — traces of autumn are beginning to appear.
A slight chill in the morning air; the odd leaf beginning to turn. As always I welcome this. Autumn is my favourite time of year.
Friends, for whom summer’s humidity is more bearable, see these signs of change with less favour. Autumn takes on a darker cast.
Perhaps even a slightly melancholy one.
Me, I’m with George Eliot.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. — George Eliot