Yesterday, I noticed the first whiff of autumn.
The brown, nutty smell of fallen leaves and damp, warm earth.
It went with the evidence of fruiting bodies – mushrooms and toadstools – sprouting and being toppled by passing feet.
The shift has started.
Am I ready to harvest what has already grown?
To choose what to store and what to discard as part of the maturing process. And what to leave as it is not mine to take.
Because I can’t have it all.
Neither can you.