THE LAST DAY OF THE GOOD WEATHER

I joined the meeting chat early today and my face ballooned up across a third of the screen.

"Hi Matt," said one of the other two people, mid-chat, "You look like you're in the sun."

My face was indeed white where the low sun was bursting through the window like a spotlight. I reached for my baseball cap and squared it onto my head.

"Yeah, it's really bright today," I said, cheerily, the top half-my-face now in shadow.

"Better make the most of it," said Lisa, "This is the last day of good weather apparently."

I see. It's that day is it - when Keats's Fall transitions to Hood's Real Autumn. The forecast is indeed grey and rainy tomorrow, a drop from 24 to 14 degrees and a blast of drizzle from what looks like a difficult winter.

I decided to make the most of it, so a little later I headed out into the sun.

The park was bright. I mean that specific kind of crisp brightness you get at this time of year - leaves fluttering and flickering green shadows on the path, light falling perfectly, as though posing for a postcard - with each detail sharp and clear. My phone camera wouldn't capture it.

There are spiders too. I remember this about September, especially late September in Keats's Fall. They string glistening silk threads across everything, from telegraph poles to wing-mirrors. I accidentally walked through a long silvery thread and had visions of Shelob appearing between the houses. Don't think about that too much.

It was warm anyway - a gentle breeze ruffled the leaves. I walked over to my favourite apple tree to see how the tiny apples are getting on. They were full and round, catching the sun and bobbing on the breeze. A few had fallen into the long grass.

If it really is the last day of the good weather, I suppose I should start thinking about how to enjoy the next season. When the wind picks up and starts throwing leaves into the rain, when the sky turns grizzly and the cold air makes you shudder and wrap your scarf tighter - it's equally as beautiful, I suppose. And on the plus side, I won't have the sun lighting me up like a marble statue on team meetings.