Around here Autumn doesn't shut things down; it wakes them up.

Autumn is the mountain's shot in the arm, just when you thought summer was stuttering to a stop.

You smell it first. Air that bit sharper. A moisture to the mornings. And the prevailing scent of mushrooms as you head off into the forest.

Then Autumn says 'I've had it with flowers, I'm going to concentrate on the berries now'. Myrtille first. Then blackberries, raspberries and wild strawberries. Pick one, get one free.

Next up, it's the trees turn to react. And what a reaction; the mountain side ablaze with more shades of amber than you even knew existed. An Alpine 5th November. Some catalytic explosion shooting its own fireworks through the swathes of green that you thought never changed.

Then one morning you awake to a blanket of white. A blanket that stays tucked in for the next four months. Without a moments warning, Autumn is over. And you can't wait for next summer to end.