It’s only the second week of August, yet there’s a definite sense that we’re on the cusp of autumn. There’s a nip to the air in the mornings. The sun is lower in the sky, the shadows are longer, more angled, and by 9 p.m the last light is draining from the sky. Most of the trees are still in leaf, though, and it’s not cool enough yet to be bothering with a jacket or thinking about footless tights. And I’m hoping I’ll fit in a few more outdoor swims at the lido before the water’s too bone-numbingly cold. But sometimes I can almost smell it, the advent of autumn, a fleeting hint of figgy earth. I’m not quite ready to see the back of summer, but I’m enjoying these little foretastes of autumn.