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.