Has there ever been an autumn like this? Forget the euro and those tedious party conferences and enjoy this stupendous Riviera weather
October has begun, but much of Britain is basking in mid-summer sunshine. Here, in a glorious evocation of autumn in a Somerset village, naturalist STEPHEN MOSS captures the sense of wonder that this weekend — amid so much otherwise depressing news — will lift all of our hearts . . .
Most autumns we enjoy a classic 'Indian summer' here on the Somerset Levels. Temperatures still plummet by night and mornings dawn cool under clear blue skies, but as days progress, a southerly breeze and the soft warmth of the sun belie the lateness of the season.
Some days, the only reason we know it's not May or June is the absence of swallows twittering in the skies above.
And it's on just such a morning that 100 or so villagers gather in the parish church for the annual Harvest Festival. This year, as every year, we all came together to celebrate the tradition, tucking into a feast of cold meats, salads and local cider; followed by games, a children's tea party and an evening concert — the nearest we get around here to the world of rock 'n' roll.
Stunning: The foliage in the New Forest's Exbury Gardens was at its glorious best
Mellow and magical: A bucolic vista in St James's Park in Central London this week
Unseasonable: Rowers take advantage of the warm weather on the River Wear in Durham
The church sits in a landscape steeped in history, of both the natural and the human kind. This is where King Arthur is said to be buried, where King Alfred burned the cakes, and where the last pitched battle was fought on English soil, at Sedgemoor on July 6, 1685.
Like so many an English village, it's a place where foxes chase rabbits, badgers grub up worms and jackdaws potter noisily around the ancient churchyard. But our small fields, with their watery boundaries, create a unique environment for more unusual plants and animals to thrive, too.
Until a fortnight or so ago, reed warblers sang their rhythmic, scratchy song from the ditches. But now fields are filled with visiting redwings, shy roe deer pass almost unnoticed and, at dusk, a barn owl floats over fields on soft, silent wings.
But there's nothing silent about this particular morning. After the service, we take a family walk down the lane behind our home in search of perhaps our last haul of blackberries.
Just stunning: The sun sets on a beautiful day in Brighton - people enjoy the last moments at low tide neat the West Pier
Isolated: A paddle boarder enjoys last night's sunset in south Devon
According to ancient folklore, Old Michaelmas Day, October 11, is the day the Devil spits on blackberries, making them inedible. With our hands soon mauve with juice and the excited children collecting impressive scratches, the tasting of the current crop confirms that, while small, the blackberries are still sweet and tasty.
Tonight we will enjoy blackberry-and-apple pie made with home-grown cooking apples and the fruits of our blackberrying labours; a fitting end to the day when we stood in church to give thanks for the food we eat.
Dawn: A man walks through the morning mist on Hampstead Heath in north London
Walkies: A man and his dog enjoy the morning mist on Hampstead Heath
Taking a break: A runner in Hampstead Heath, takes time out of her jog to soak up the sun in north London
Thanks & Regards
SHYJITH M
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