" A minute ago it was June. Now the weather is September. The crops are high, about to be cut, bright, golden,
November? unimaginable. Just a month away.
The days are still warm, the air in the shadows sharper. The nights are sooner, chillier, the light a little less each time.
Dark at half-past seven. Dark at quarter past seven, dark at seven.
The greens of the trees have been duller since August, since July really.
But the flowers are still coming. The hedgerows are still humming. The shed is already full of apples and the tree's still covered in them.
The birds are on the powerlines.
The swifts left week ago. They're hundreds of miles from here by now, somewhere over the ocean. "

― Ali Smith , Autumn (Seasonal, #1)