The house martins are gathering on telephone lines. The cows have gone from the field the other side of the valley - no more distant bells. This morning we heard the first of the guns for the hunting season. And we had friends round for supper last night and bless them, they left early.
For two months we have all supped, drunk, barbequed, visited night markets, had friends and families to stay, danced, been to concerts, watched shows and suddenly, for all of us, we'd had enough.
For the first time in weeks we finished the evening indoors, curled up on the sofa, the shutters closed against the cool night air. And today I just gardened - tugging at the thistles that have grown over the muddy trench where a new land drain lies. The earth around their roots still feels warm, but the gold evening light across the bare fields and the sharp breeze speak of autumn.
Building work is about to start on our house and in two weeks we'll be moving into the cottage. Our days are going to be busy with packing and decisions about what to take and what to store.