Inexorable is a weighty word.

After a cold early evening walk across the fields I have realised without a doubt that Autumn is here. Summer, like a breathless child has rushed headlong into Autumn. The leaves have begun their slow turning. The Sycamore, always the first to burst its buds in Spring has begun to yield its yellow and green leaves to the wind. Every year I struggle to adapt to this change, the year is as far away from my birth as can be and I resist the descent into Autumn. I love the colours to come but my whole being yells at the change from flowers to seed with an almighty, "No! I am not ready yet!"

Coming ready or not! xxx