Autumn weather in June? What’s going on?


For those like me, who live in the northern hemisphere, it might seem a touch perverse to post a photo of autumn leaves just as summer is expected. But then, of course, so many fellow bloggers south of the equator are heading into winter, so this is for you. Seasons greetings and all that.

Besides which, here in the UK most of us have been having autumn, if not downright winter weather for weeks now. June arrived with Met Office warnings of gales, plus torrential downpours. As I write,  the sky is filling again with fat rain clouds…

Enough already. Feelings of dryness are definitely required at Sheinton Street. I anyway love the spicy scent of autumn leaves, and especially crispy sweet chestnut ones, which these mostly are.

There is something mesmerizing about that sundried smell that opens up pathways to the past: forgotten houses, empty rooms, sun bleached floorboards, old cupboards and drawers exhaling remnant whiffs of their former contents, the sweet odour of decay. It’s all most beguiling, and hard to know if these are shreds of a remembered past, or some parallel universe barely glimpsed. Shall we take a ‘leaf’ from Alice Through the Looking Glass, and step through…?

Perhaps another day. The leaves are Welsh ones by the way. There were caught last year on a gloriously dry September afternoon, as we walked in a dream on the Dol Idris Path below the great  mountain of Cader Idris.  You can read about that walk here.

But now for the soundtrack to the photo, a song that I’ve loved since my first years on the planet Autumn Leaves/ Les feuilles mortes  sung here by the one and only Yves Montand. Oh, the tristesse:

Related: Now that summer’s done, we take the Dol Idris Path…

Jennifer Nichole Wells OWPC: dry   Go here for some more dry posts

48 thoughts on “Autumn weather in June? What’s going on?

  1. Our weather here in the mid-United States has been very fall-like for the last several days as well. Now, I want to say up front that I’m not complaining, because I detest super hot weather. But it has seemed a little strange to have to put on a jacket and turn on the heat in the car on a June day.

    1. Yes, that’s what’s so disorientating. I even went back to my winter wool coat the other day. English weather always has been a bit unpredictable, but now I’m totally at sea with it. Wishing you warmer, but not too hot days, Sandra.

  2. Thank you for the beautiful music…one of my favourites:) Ah yes, even though I am not a fan of very hot weather, I will be pleased when it warms up and the sun is shining again…..Yesterday, last night and today have felt like the middle of winter……ah well, this too shall pass:)

    1. I missed this in my response box, Janet. Well we’ve had some sunshine now, but here in Shropshire we still have a weird wind. It feels as if it’s passed over an ice field en route. Have a lovely weekend – whatever the weather. In fact it’s been pretty hot down with you hasn’t it.

      1. We are enjoying a lovely weekend and I think the week ahead looks pretty good……it’s about time. Hope the wind begins to abate where you are so that you can thoroughly enjoy your gardens. Janet

  3. Lovely post Tish. The paragraph that begins . . . There is something mesmerizing about that sundried smell . . . . . beautiful. I feel I learned something about writing just from reading that. Thank you. I must pay attention to details more. I have a very faint sense of smell so it’s not evocative for me, but visuals certainly are, and the soundscape.
    Here in Vancouver it’s overcast and cool, a fairly typical summer so far – overcast then sunny, back and forth.

    1. You’ve made my day, Alison, saying that you learned something about writing from this piece. Brilliant. It’s something I learned from reading countless articles in writing magazines. It’s all in the detail. Always. I’m v. pleased you enjoyed this post.

  4. Here in western Canada it has been exceedingly dry. We’ve had some nice warm weather, but some cloudy cold weather too. The only upside to the dryness is that the mosquito count is very low!

  5. promised a heat wave in May and it vanished – same words uttered for June and all blown away. Please send fat raindrops – we only spit in London! p.s. shades of autumn are glorious indeed but cast a sad spectre over summer pps. agree with the above comment – autumn beguiles with colour and we forget to note its odours

    1. Our weather prognostications seem to be complete nonsense these days. Didn’t they say we were in for bbq weather until the end of summer. I agree that autumn leaves are a little sad though. I wish someone had written a song about broad bean blossom. At the moment in my allotment, its scent is absolutely fantabulous. I want a blog with sniff facility, then I could share it. 🙂

  6. That is so weird. Here too. What is WITH the weather. We were supposed to be in Vermont, but all up and down the northeast, it’s in the low 40s, with wind and drenching, icy rain. No one seemed to think it a good idea to drive 250 miles in the rain to be in even more cold and rain. It IS June … isn’t it?

    1. He is heavenly, isn’t he. I can’t imagine Sidmouth with high brown waves. I’ve only seen it in pebble lapping serenity. That’s quite an exciting thought, that things get a bit rough there 🙂

  7. Such a beautiful song, Tish. I hope the weather brightens up before we arrive in England later this month. ‘Flaming June’ would suit me just fine. 🙂 Love your autumn leaves pic.

    1. Well I can tell you Sylvia that we are promised a heat wave by the end of the week, though it’s hard to believe with all the wind and grey skies this p.m. And the week after looks hopeful, so fingers crossed for your visit.

  8. Well, even though you’ve just catapulted me into Autumn before I’ve had Summer, Tish, I forgive you. I’d never heard that sung by Yves Montand. Totally delicious! 🙂
    And I like your strong black and white images for Cee, too.

    1. Thank you, Jo. Sorry about the disorientation season-wise. But then I’m already confused. When I came home from the allotment last night, the wind whipping up the hedgerows, and grey skies above, I could have sworn it was October.

  9. I hope your weather improves. We have plunged into winter here in southern Oz. The weather man said yesterday was our coldest June day since the 1940’s. What is going indeed?
    I liked your autumn photo – it captures the feel of the season.

    1. Well it does seem odd that both ends of the planet are the coldest they’ve been for ages, AND at the same time. My internal seasonal clock is completely confused.

  10. Your posts encourage my habit of wilfing. Every one leads me down a garden path and then up another one! I love the photo, the voice, the cogitations and now I’m off to the Dol Idris path. May you soon have the summer you desire.

    1. Yes, it’s just come! Have been melting in my polytunnel all afternoon. So nice of you to let me lead you hither and thither. And that you want to come 🙂

  11. Ah Tish the paragraph opening up pathways to the past is beautiful and evocative, and that delicious sensuous French accent and the haunting melody of “falling leaves”. Great post.
    I miss the changing seasons over here, no Autumn leaves in this part of Queensland. Today is winter but the skies are crystal clear and azure blue, not a breath of wind and should get to 23C. Now I must go out into the garden and say hello to all the plants…

    1. Thank you for that crystal clear, windless pic of you in your garden, Pauline. Your winter is hotter than our summer by the sound of it. I’ve always loved Yves Montand. I have no idea why, except that he transcends all notions of tatty stardom, as most French actors somehow manage to do.

      1. Interestingly I have just come back from a Ukelele and surfing concert (it’s 9-30pm over here) and the “Uke Quartet” were quite good but when they played and sang “falling leaves” oh dear after listening to Yves Montand this morning I’m afraid they massacred it. They actually pulled out a bazooka in the middle!!!!

  12. I feel right at home with your autumn leaves and cold weather. You could be picturing my immediate environment, which, you may be amused to know, has Welsh names and a street called Idris.

    1. Well that’s a curious congruence indeed. Welsh settlers no doubt. Miners? Quarrymen perhaps, and perhaps from that very part of (Cader Idris) Wales?

      1. I think I’m remembering this correctly if not the detail. There was someone who had a massive sheep run on south island and completely changed the landscape. I can’t think where I read this.

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