Autumn has long been my favourite season of the year: the faint, warm light and the smell of mist and fire smoke evoke memories of sparkler warnings in school, toffee apples and feasting on swag bags from trick or treating. September leads from the summer with warm days, like a lingering taste of lazy days in the sunshine before the scarves and coats block out the shivers and chilly winds.
I took a walk with William through Mayfair, peering into the shop windows as assistants peeled off the remnants of spooky spiders and autumn leaves and replaced them with the ivy and baubles of advent. At noon on a Sunday, Mayfair’s streets were calm and quiet, the fog slowly rising but leaving a mystical, romantic haze over the opulent Victorian buildings.
Green Park was an explosion of autumnal brilliance, the sunlight peering through Buckingham Palace’s Gates and leading weekend walkers along the leaf-strewn paths.
Our walk led us to Hyde Park, roller blades rattling down the boulevards, sending fallen foliage sauntering into the air to clear the path.
A peaceful day, our conversation blending with the condensation from our breath, drifting and evaporating into the clear air.
As we sat on the park bench, the sun fell and bathed us in a rich, gorgeous glow that reminded us to appreciate every crisp, sunny day with which we are gifted.