Nightfall

Still to do: mortgage, tyres, mushrooms, cottage, campsite. Oh, and pick the courgettes that are threatening to turn into marrows.

I've just been out to the garage to put some washing on. The washing machine is out there to make room in the kitchen for a dishwasher. Don't look at me like that: it's AAA rated. Anyway, it's the fact that it's 9.20pm and the light is failing that I wanted to talk about.

There's just something special that starts happening at this time of year. It's a turning point marked by the pagan festival of Lammas or Lughnasadh, the first harvest. You really start to notice the nights drawing in; it's actually dark when you go to bed. You start to see all your Boris house spiders appearing. I don't know where they go the rest of the year. Although you will have harvested some things from the veggie patch already the real glut starts. The annual flying ant infestation occurs.

I like it. I like to know that autumn is on its way and it won't be long before we get misty, dewy mornings and cool nights when you want to burn something to stay cosy. When I move house I am going to treat myself to a wood-burning stove and I hope it's going to be before autumn gets too far under way.

About half an hour ago I was out clearing some junk from my car, before it went dark, and in banging the bin lid I disturbed a wren. I've noticed one a few times lately - today it was desperately trying to catch a very large moth - and I wonder if they're nesting in the ivy.