An ode to autumn – is October the finest month of all?

October is the fading of the sun reflected in the fiery leaves, it is the changing of the seasons, and David Barnett loves it

October is the month the leaves change to shades of red, orange and brown (Getty/iStock)

October, then; the month on which the year pivots, off-centre, off-kilter, like the axis of the Earth. Hopes of an Indian summer lie fallow in the fields, winter is coming but not just yet, merely sending its heralds in on the chill bite in the rising winds.

October is the house on the borderland, one foot in the dying embers of evening sun and one foot in the grave. It is the month when night’s veil is drawn down earlier, when by the methodical witchcraft of time we gain an hour on the last Sunday of the month.

It is the month of apples and pumpkins and turnips and leaves – of course of leaves – shaking off their cool green to reveal that their fiery hues that have lurked unseen all through summer.