Then I take a walk.
It is late August, and the leaves on the trees have an undeniable tinge of yellow but the bushes are heavy with fruit. There are Blackberries aplenty, rose hips of the most magnificent vermilion. There are apples, elderberries, damsons and plums. There are Sloes, with the promise of warmth in the winter, just prick them all over and steep in gin with sugar and they will warm you in the most bleak of cold winter days. It is a time to gather and hoard. To take in the end of this summer and keep it with you, a chance to stop time. Just for a while. Just until you can accept the oncoming of winter, and the cold that it brings.