I love the seasons. What would it be like to live in a constant temperature? A constant spring? An endless summer? An everlasting cold? No, I love the change.
And here in the UK the seasons themselves are mutable. Summer is often not hot and dry. Spring might not be an unfurling of life but icy, cold and wet. And this autumn has not been damp and blustery but long and warm and mellow as caramel. Winter has come now but how different this mild late born winter is from last year's lion's grip, the whole world stilled under his heavy paw.
This is the 5th of December last year, steely under snow, and then the same date this year, all sun and silhouetted trees.
This year there are marigolds still throwing out flowers. A year ago today the field was blanketed under snow.
Green and gold fennel this year and monochrome hedges last.
Rose hips and snow.
I love seasons.