New worlds to conker

Yesterday, or was it Monday, was the official start of autumn, it said on the telly. This is the day in the year when all over the world day and night are the same length.

I never knew that day existed. Well, I had heard of the autumn equinox, but never knew what it actually was. I suppose if I had had a classical education I might have worked it out -- its etymology is pretty bloody obvious once you know.

Having said that, I have spent many hours wondering how it can be that in Oxford the days are shorter in the summer than in Lancashire, yet longer in the winter. I'm not very good at four dimensions, as anyone who's ever gone out with me could tell you. I can barely manage three.

Still, now I do know, and I shall celebrate it from now on. Turning points are special, and autumn is my favourite time of year. Our resident Antipodeans descend into SAD, but I get out my jumpers with glee. It is a time for optimism if you are me, though I am not sure why. As is spring. In fact, my top 4 months in order are:

1. September
2. October (till clocks go back)
3. April
4. March

This morning, I went swimming at the shiny new Oxford University swimming pool, then had a cup of coffee and set off cycling to work. And as if that weren't groovy and autumnal enough, as I met the main road I saw the first conker of the season shimmering against the gravel, and stopped to scoop it into the pocket of my fleece hoodie (autumnal garment of choice).

On the way home, it was a little chilly, so I pulled on my fingerless gloves, and a small yet significant part of my soul sang.

I think it can be summed up thus: my favourite days are those where fingerless gloves are desirable but not essential, where a little bit of central heating in the morning and evening takes the edge off the chill, but where it is still temperate enough to dry your clothes outside, especially when it's windy and they come in stiff and cold and smelling of weather.

Bring. It. On.

joella