The wind howled against the window as the trees swayed rhythmically to the beating of the rain. I watched as the leaves fell off the branches and floated towards the sodden ground. Shades of red, orange, yellow and brown littered the path, hiding the concrete beneath.
I gathered my favourite blanket around me and huddled closer to the soft fabric, keeping the cold from setting in. The temperatures had dropped dramatically as the glistening frost crept across the cars outside.
I inhaled the delicious scent of hot chocolate adorned with whipped cream and marshmallows, smiling in anticipation. The chocolaty goodness warmed my body as it satisfyingly slid down my throat.
It was that time of year for homemade soup, fire and scary films. For pumpkins to ambush stores and homes, and for children to consume their body weight in sweets after a painful week of shopping for the perfect costume. And of course, tissue boxes cluttered the house, ready for that inevitable ‘common’ cold.
Dark nights graced my evenings sooner than before, and inspiration comforted my writers’ mind.
Autumn had arrived.