Opening my window last Sunday morning Autumn entered with a blast.

Fresh, crisp, chilly air swept into the room and along with it the tang of woodsmoke, the freshness of the last of the green, a sweet vague smell of rotting apples and the taste of a new term, birthdays and bonfire nights.

Mornings like that are my ‘lacrosse mornings’ evoking ‘Back to School’ memories and early risings on Saturdays to stand, stick in hand, in red woollen socks, pleated kilt and an insubstantial t-shirt dashing around a newly hardened, bumpy ground in recently bought football boots warming up through dashes and sprints after the little yellow ball; orange squash, doughnuts and shopping.

The garden is tinged with Autumn; the tree tops dipped in umber, the lawns and furniture glazed with a slight dusting of frost; everything sparkling slightly against a blue sky and bright sun refusing to be moved.

Remember that illustration of the Shubbery leaves?

For her 70th birthday I gave my mother a watercolour I did of our lovely cottage in the Yorkshire Dales, now sadly sold.

I wrapped it in paper I made from this illustration and another design created from drawings of flowers and shrubs I made whilst out on a local walk last year.

I just wish we had an A2 colour printer at work.