I stepped off the pavement to scrape the carpet of leaves back from the drain cover.
A car passed on the other side of the road and the stereo was playing Justin Hayward’s song, Forever Autumn.
I was on my way to visit a man who must have felt that Fall, as the American’s call it, summed up his life.
He had fallen off the wagon, fallen into trouble, and family and friends seemed to have fallen out of love with him. I hoped to help or, at least, cheer him up.
“No matter how many leaves fall, and how often the drain gets blocked,” I imagined myself telling Justin Hayward. “The seasons do change.”
And if we know someone whose life has become autumnal or wintery, we can always take them a little bit of spring, or summer.