“Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it and if I were a bird, I would fly around the world seeking the successive Autumns.” George Eliott

McLaren Vale has transformed into a beautifully textured patchwork of russet and golden hues again. This is my favourite time of year. Every leaf is a celebration of nature and her forces. The light places a golden filter onto everything it touches and the breezes turn fresh, crisp and damp. For all of that poetry, there is some prose; though no less appreciated: this is the first year in the last four that we haven’t been living in the shed – no having to trek outside in the night between the kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms in pouring rain. I now have slippers instead of gumboots beside my bed. Small mercies yet huge gratitude.