There is a time to hold on and a time to let go, and that time will not be the same for everyone.

I think I notice autumn first in the light.

It falls across the garden differently. The afternoon sun sits lower, finding its way through the branches and catching leaves that were green only a short while ago. Sometimes I look out of the window and realise a tree has changed almost overnight. I wonder how I missed the first signs of it.

Then I begin to see it everywhere. On the drive home, along streets I know well, and in gardens I’ve passed a hundred times without giving them much thought. The trees seem to change at their own pace. One is nearly bare while the next is still full of leaves, only just beginning to turn. I love that autumn unfolds this way, a little differently wherever I look.

On a clear day, the sky is such a beautiful blue behind the branches. I’ll stop beneath a tree for a moment and look up through its leaves. Some are lit by the sun; others have curled at the edges and are ready to fall. If a breeze comes through, they tremble for a moment before one or two finally let go.

And then there’s the sound of walking through the leaves already on the ground. I’ve loved that since I was a child. I still find myself taking the path with the most leaves on it, just to hear them crunch beneath my shoes. When they’re damp, the sound disappears and they lie flat against the pavement, waiting for the next dry afternoon.

The air changes too. The warmth can linger in the middle of the day, but mornings and evenings have a cool edge to them. I step outside and breathe in the smell of damp earth and fallen leaves. It makes me want to stay outdoors a little longer, even when I’ve only gone out to do something ordinary.

I start taking a scarf with me, then find myself grateful for it by late afternoon. Coming home feels lovely at this time of year: putting the kettle on, wrapping my hands around a warm cup and looking out at the last of the light. There’s often still plenty to do, but I like giving myself those few minutes by the window.

The evenings draw in so gradually that I hardly notice at first. Then one day the light is fading while I’m making dinner, and I realise how far the season has moved along. On some afternoons, I go out for a walk while there’s still time. The sun reaches down the street between the houses, and the trees cast long shadows across the footpath. A familiar place can look beautiful in that light.

Autumn has its drizzly days as well, and I love those too. The colours seem deeper against a grey sky. Wet leaves gather along the edges of the road, and the garden smells fresh after rain. On a misty morning, it can take a while for the view to come into focus. I like watching the day slowly appear.

Of course, there are days when I’m busy and barely look around me. I’ll hurry past the trees with my mind on the next thing I need to do. Then a leaf lands near my feet, or a patch of sunlight catches my eye, and I look up. I notice how much has changed since the last time I paid attention.

That may be what I love most about autumn. I can return to the same street or garden each week and find something new. More light through the branches. A different tree turning. Leaves scattered across a path that was clear the day before.

I know the leaves won’t stay for long. Soon the branches will be bare and the mornings colder. For now, though, I want to enjoy the walks, the crisp air, the warmth of a cup of tea when I come inside, and those beautiful afternoons when the light makes me stop and look around.

There’s so much to take in while autumn is here.