Three and a half weeks ago I noted down in my diary that my Sunday Ruchill Park stroll “felt autumnal already”.
Since then it still felt mostly like summer; but the approach of autumn was in the air more and more.
Today I took a trip to Dunkeld. All the main tasks to make me feel like settled here contrived, I could visit the cathedral where I decided, two years ago, to immigrate, and where, after I did, I made an appointment with myself after another year.
Getting off the train I saw the first tree with leaves turning red this year. Later I saw an ivy doing the same.
Before the cathedral I had a ramble to the Hermitage and the Rumbling Bridge. It didn’t feel exactly like summer; it felt like summer with autumn knocking on the door. Knocking, not pounding – but in the way which makes it obvious that he won’t wait outside for long.
So I let him in.
After all, much as I love the other three seasons, I always loved him the best.