Wind scrapes the fallen leaves along the pavement, this way and that they dance. Sometimes it whips them into a vortex, a mini tornado that chases along the road a few metres before it collapses. There's always movement. A stray breath of air drags the odd bronzed leaf just a foot or two. Even when the wind's still the leaves tremble. The mornings start grey and dreich. The light draws up later and the afternoon light deceives. It's a warm light, rich and golden. It draws the colour of the world out, bringing intensity to everything - saturating the landscape. It looks like a special effect. The illusion of warmth lasts until the sun drops below the south west corner of the horizon. The sunset lasts for hours.
Then the cold comes.