Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness...
So said Keats (a dead poet apparently, there's probably a society about him somewhere).
Crap.
Season of rain and muddy puddles more like.
Nothing sums up the UK more than autumn. That slow decay as life's green growth sucums to the relentless forces of entropy. Dark gloomy days, warning of the even darker days of winter ahead.
The swallows have it right. Migrate. Africa. See you there.
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