There is a smell in the air, the smell of autumn, a yeasty, damp, fruity smell,
carrying a hint of smoke and a hint, too, of decay.
It fills me with nostalgia, but I do not know for what.
It is a smell I love, for this is and has always been my favourite season.
I have never been let down by autumn, to me it is always beautiful,
always rich, it always gives in heaping measure, and sometimes
it can stretch into November, fading, but so gently,
like a very old person whose dying is protracted
but peacefully, in calmness.
(Susan Hill – The Magic Apple Tree)