We are in the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, and I’ve remembered that it has been said (by whom I cannot recall, my BA English supervisor I think?) that the Romantic Poets used to get their best work done at this time of year, being influenced by the ‘Eolian Wind’.
I am allowing myself a little poetic/nostalgic revelry today: this is my last month in York. I move south for winter and in with my partner for the ‘write-up’ year on the 30th.
So I took a walk around the Kings Manor and The Museum Garden and looked at the leaves (and some cheeky cyclamen).