Down here in Devon the rusty fingers of Autumn are already insinuating their way into my beloved hedgerows .Bracken is the first to go , pale yellow followed by golden brown . Even some of the trees especially poplars are beginning to turn . As I drive past a scurry of leaves swirls round and resettles to form a ribbon along the roadside .
The harvest is in and the fields now turning red as the farmers plough back in the stubble. Bales of straw are transported on huge lorries ready for the cattle to be bought in to their winter quarters .
Spiders' webs , heavy with morning dew , decorate the garden and there is that distinct moist chill in the morning air .All around is that feeling of something coming to an end and returning to the earth to sleep the winter through . What happened to summer ? Did it ever happen ? It doesn't feel like it .
For me with the passing of Veronica ,nothing feels the same , somehow things have lost their lustre . The rain dribbles down the windowpanes as I sit here and they reflect my tears . Perhaps in the spring when life is reborn I shall reawaken too but until then ,like Autumn , I feel I shall draw in like the nights and await the long winter ahead .