The core of the house, the part we all use, had an artificial warmth this morning. Peripherals were chilled by the night air still as I moved around, finding breakfast and restoring order to piles of paper disturbed by passing children.
On Sunday we swam, or at least paddled deeply, in the sea. Waves shot cool salt spray over our heads, but the sun was warm. In the lee of the cliff, on the rocks, we soaked up sun like reptiles; spreading ourselves perpendicular to the rays.
Ths morning, sponging the dew from the car windows, it felt different. A corner has been turned in the year and to mark this, I wore a scarf. The trees, where they are exposed to flows of cool, already show seasonal colour changes. Occasional boughs are marked with yellow in the oaks and chestnuts, maples have turned to glowing fiery balls, flickering where the sun reflects of wet, turned foliage.
The first day of autumn.
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