There could not have been a more perfect day to take a walk in the woods.
Bright bursts of sunshine filtered through the trees turning the world the colour of Autumn and the air was so clear that tiny chills travelled on the sunbeams tingling our fingers with the threat of cold.
Trees on the cusp of transformation displayed their first amber leaves with tentative pride and everywhere the world was tinged with the poignant melancholy of decay.
We walked at toddler pace, stopping endlessly to watch John pick up acorns, examine leaves, gather twigs and pebbles, cry out for blackberries and moo at the cows.
And as we walked to the sound of little feet rustling through a thin carpet of leaves and breathed in the damp scent of season's change, we realised that at some point, without us even noticing, something imperceptible had shifted and that Autumn had truly arrived.