There is something about this time of year I really love, it’s that glorious in between new life and old. It brings the promise of cosy sweater days, crisp leaves and seeking refuge in your duvet for a few more blissful moments. There are still the last vestiges of summer, it’s warm breath caressing the back of your neck, winter has not yet had the chance to wreak it’s icy spell. The sunsets have this immeasurably beautiful quality to them, the yellows, oranges and pale pinks fading into a work even Matisse would envy. The trees are not yet bare, or devoid of life, the leaves cling on like loyal friends, shaking at times perhaps but true. The slow, languid wind makes it’s way through the branches, as if travelling at it’s own leisurely pace. This time of year leaves me with the warmest feeling, the feeling of possibilities, however endless they may be. I think as humans we love and crave that freedom, the freedom to choose who we are and where exactly we decide to go.