Ode To Autumn

Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness by John Keats 1795-1821

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er brimm'd their clammy cells.

I love hot weather, not direct heat, I can't sit in direct sunshine but I love the feeling of surround warmth and I will mourn the passing of summer. However all seasons have their own merit and for me this poem, in its entirety, sums up the onset of the beautiful season of autumn. 

As I walk the dogs I notice the mellow fruitfulness all around.

Elderberries

Sloes

I think these are rose hips

My favourites, blackberries. 

I shall be picking these when they are ready, for apple and blackberry pies, mmmm