autumn harvest laura mckendry

A cat slinks across the top of a fence balancing on the garden boundaries of pebbledashed terraces. Spiders, so many, float across windows, between trees, glistening tightropes spun strong. Cars charge past, splashing pothole puddles, helicopter phutters overhead.

We pick up where we left London. The garden has grown, kids bigger, bolder too. A new routine of preschool walk, gathering final few blackberries, scooting through fallen leaves.

London, I missed your seasons, your chaos, your urban parks. Autumn, and all its harvest, welcomes us home.