Perhaps it is because I married in October, perhaps it is because October, unlike other months, can be relied on, with a single frost, to work an overnight transformation, that I envisage the yearly cycle stopping and restarting this month.
For the rest of the year seasons grow into each other imperceptibly. Spring sneaks out of winter with the unfolding of the first snowdrops, then totters back before bounding up with daffodils, merging with summer somewhere in May or June. The change from summer to autumn is equally slow with trees yellowing from the middle of September but waiting three or four weeks before flaring into richness
Here in Leicester, we generally have our first hard frost in the middle of the month. and there is no shilly shallying. On the 18th I had a garden full of colour, on the 19th I woke to find the arrogant beds of brightly hued dahlias dissolved into excremental slime, a reminder perhaps that now is a good time to spread manure.
If I look above eye level, however, I see a different picture, trees insistent on clinging to beaurty until the last leaf falls next month.