In the week after the clocks have gone back and it’s dark by five, with a faint smell of woodsmoke in the air I walked the lanes at dusk just as I did all those years ago whilst accompanying one or other child to Beavers or Brownies. The last of the light dipped behind the hedge, and the world went quiet. Back at home I lit the kitchen candles, made a cuppa and sat down to read.

The Celts called this the thin time of the year. This weekend (31 Oct into 1 Nov) Samhain, marks the turn from the light half of the year to the dark, and the old belief was that the veil between the living and the dead wore thin enough to feel and connect with our ancestors. The Christian Church, gave us All Saints on 1 November and All Souls on 2 November, a day set aside to pray for the departed. Different traditions but essentially the same human impulse to remember, to look back.

You don't need to believe in anything at all to feel it.

Why autumn stirs grief

If you've noticed your mood dipping as the leaves come down, you're not imagining it. Autumn is a season of visible endings. The garden dies back, the light drains away and we draw indoors. It is nature's own rehearsal for loss, and our bodies respond to it. Less daylight affects sleep and mood, and a quieter, slower season leaves more room for what we have been keeping busy enough to avoid.

Then there's the calendar of memory. The first October without someone. The birthday that falls in November. The place at the table that will be glaringly empty by Christmas, which is already creeping into the shops. Grief doesn't keep office hours, and it certainly doesn't keep to the calendar, but autumn arrives to tap us on the shoulder.