There’s something amazing about a sunny autumn day. I think it’s the perfect mixture of light and colors with a crisp air that you don’t get at any other time of year.

In truth, I’m never happy to see the arrival of autumn. It heralds the end of summer, and serves only as a fanfare for the imminent arrival of another long winter in which I’ll only be wishing for the spring.

I’m a warm weather person. A sun worshipping Englishman with carefully chosen sunglasses and an appetite for blue sky days rarely satisfied by the mean British summers that withholds the sun like a child that hasn’t learned how to share. However, there’s something magical about a bright autumn day, with that hint of a chill in the air and the colors turned up to ten. On days like this I forgive the season for its all-too-soon arrival.

Winter has well and truly arrived in Melbourne now. So while I look to the other side of the world with slightly envious eyes, I thought I would share a few photographs of my autumn in Melbourne.

I think the last two pictures are my favorites. I took so many over the course of a few days while riding in my neighbourhood and the city. I’m sure some people wondered what I was doing as I studied the shadows of trees that looked like murals on the walls or fences where they appeared.

Autumn usually passes me by without note or reason to stop and look. I suspect that familiarity quietly stole from me the motivation to witness the change, to pay attention to the mundane. It would seem that moving has indeed moved me.

When it stops
Seasons change

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