Autumn. Mornings of mist, of grass heavily sodden with diamonds of thick dew. The fine delicate webs, patiently designed by spiders, become necklaces adorning the bushes. The whole scene could be a lavish set from some Gothic opera, all it needs is a caped, masked gentleman floating into view...
Oh! What's that movement my terrified eyes have spotted? Who is this ghostly figure that makes my bosom heave in trepidation? That sends the back of my delicate hand to my clammy brow as I feel suddenly faint with fright!
The postman shoves the brown envelope through the letter box and trudges off again down the path, unaware of the role he's just played in my dramatic scene. Such an anti climax!
Ah Autumn! How I love the way your drenched air and rusty palette of colours send my imagination into overdrive.
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