The nights are getting cooler, and we have taken out the summer duvet. Up until now we have slept under a sheet, sometimes with a light throw on top. But now, at night, the warmth and weight of the duvet is a comfort.

Along Jan Smuts Avenue, on the residential stretch between Dunkeld and Rosebank, the leaves of the plane trees are turning brown and gold, crinkling at the edges. Some plants still think it’s summer. The planes know better. There is a crispness to the air these days that tells us, too, the seasons are changing.

I like the sense of it, the earth turning on its axis, the natural order holding sway.

On the other side of the blue globe, spinning in space, the opposite season is sliding into place. In June Rob will be off, for a busy two weeks in summery Toronto. In October, most likely, we will both return – to a second autumn, in our other home.

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