Big wild world

Caro Giles fills up her cup with summer colour and awaits autumn wonder...

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September is often the best month in Northumberland. The sea is as mild as it will be all year, and I can submerge myself in the waves without them stealing my breath. Beaches are gradually returned to the locals, vast expanses of sand and shells dotted with only the occasional dog walker. Gone are the children dibbling in the sand with coloured spades, the striped windbreakers bravely challenging feisty northern breezes, and the ice-cream van perched on the edge of the sand dunes. Tourists have returned to their lives and left the wilderness behind. The skies are often wide and cloudless, and when I open my front door, the step is warm beneath my feet.

I can walk down to the end of my street and the hedges spill over with late-summer flowers.

September is also the month when it is still possible to cling to the light.

Gone are the days of climbing into bed at 10pm and staring out of the window onto not-yet-night, and the sun climbs high into the sky. Soon, I will wake early and no strips of light will leach through the shutters on my bedroom window.

I'll become more reliant on candles and fairy lights to shift the darkness.