We are in the midst of autumn here in the South (Hemisphere, that is) and autumn is always especially lovely around our way. In fact, it's my favourite season. Today, for example, it was delightfully foggy in the morning and then a sort of misty haze hung over the city for most of the day. A lot of people don't like fog, I'm sure, but being the overly thoughtful type that I am, I love it for a couple of kinda wishy-washy reasons. Or, at least, I love it in the safe confines of our urban environment. I probably wouldn't be too mad on it if I was driving on a dangerous, winding road or being pursued by Jack-the-Ripper through 19th century London. But since I was doing neither of those things this morning as I stood on the doorstep, it made me smile. It envelops otherwise familiar (and sometimes dreary) scenes in an air of mystery, indeed, of mysticism. Above is a photo I took on my phone as I walked up from the train station this afternoon. It captures just what I like about autumn; the stark loveliness of the trees and the clear, almost brittle, blue skies.
