As the sun alters our light and that sharp pinch is felt at daybreak and twilight, and as this years fledglings move swiftly on and the summer harvest fills up the pantry, we hear the signal as its sung from the trees:

It’s autumn and there’s no rush.

That’s the thing about autumn. It’s an in-between. A pause between the brutalities of summer and the harshness of winter.

Summer is an assault of the senses as sight and sound and hearing are all set at full capacity. Colourful leaves and wafts...