Wandering about in the garden these days everything looks wan and sere, surrendering to the inevitable. As foliage from the ornamental crab trees, the flowering peas, the splendidly flowering magnolias and the weeping mulberry float from perch to ground, littering the gardens and walkways, it's best to admire their colour and languid grace.

We can rake ad infinitum, but more will fall, and why bother? Other than, of course, to keep up appearances, to be as tidy, say, as your next door neighbour. Even if your next door neighbour slothfully fails to respond to the urge to be neat and kind to the lawns and gardens that usually assail your sensibilities, not theirs.

A walk out into the backyard has its rewards still, as rugosa roses continue blooming. Even in the face of the brisk wind, the frigid temperature, the days-on-end of chilling rain and lack of sun they stubbornly hang in there, blooming in wonderful shades of pink, yellow, red. They're the last hold-outs; the rest of the garden has closed up shop.

Perennials have been cut back because you cannot stand the sight of yellowing, wilted foliage on sad stems bearing little resemblance to the pride they exude and you view them with, while they are in the prime of the growing season.

Fall is having its way because it is an inevitable process. A sad one in many ways, but beautiful beyond words in many ways, too.