September’s a strange, uncertain month. I find myself waiting for the
summer to end and for the autumn to start, in a kind of limbo. The house is
cold inside but outside it’s invariably still warm. Washing hung on the line early in the morning is still damp by late afternoon. I notice how the evenings
are drawing in preparing us for the colder, darker months ahead. I persist in wearing my summer clothes but I feel chilly and resort to adding a cardigan. A glass of white wine in
the garden in the early evening feels somehow too cold and thin; red seems more
palatable. Salad days are fading and are beginning to give way to hot meals
eaten earlier in the evening. The grapes on the vine are desperately trying to
ripen before the last of the summer warmth disappears. Everything seems to
be slowing down. The last of the summer roses are hanging on trying to convince
us that summer’s not yet ended, but the few yellowing leaves on the trees and
shrubs have a different opinion. My 'flip flops' are swapped for slippers: the
summer duvet for a heavier one. Crane flies - "daddy long legs" - keep appearing indoors and spiders are beginning to make their way
into the house looking for a mate. Meanwhile, I’m planning on going conker
hunting this weekend to keep them away.Yes, it really does work.
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