Autumn, remind me why I fell in love with you.

Autumn is in full swing, and I've been dragged into it kicking and screaming. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy autumn, but I'm such a summer child that I find it difficult to say goodbye to the sun and come to terms with the changing of the seasons. Even when most of the people I follow on Blogger and Instagram were getting excited about colder days and pumpkin-spiced lattés and saying it was their favourite season, I just couldn't warm to the idea. But now, finally, I've accepted it. I've left summer and denial behind, and I'm welcoming autumn with all the woollens, yummy soups and pretty scenery it brings.

I never used to enjoy autumn when I lived in Spain, because Spain doesn't really have autumn, at least not in the area I lived. The weather just got colder, the days got shorter and the flowers died, leaving perennials behind. But in the UK, France and Germany, to name a few more Northern countries, autumn is a dream. My favourite colours are reds, burnt oranges and warm yellows, all the colours the trees turn when autumn comes along. My camera roll fills with snaps of orange-tinged avenues and brightly coloured parks, while my shelves suddenly display an array of fallen leaves I've collected on walks. And while I hate the nights drawing in and I'm not a fan of the cold, I love getting out the boots and woolly jumpers, and this year especially, I've indulged in a bit of retail therapy to update my autumn wardrobe (shh, don't tell).

And the food! Oh, how I wish British supermarkets would sell more pumpkins and their cousins! Last night I knocked up some roast pumpkin to accompany a tasty Saturday night paprika beef dish, and I'm loving all the root veg and winter spices to throw in soups (although, to be fair, I tend to ignore people who tell me I can't eat soup in the summer, who do they think they are?) And a little later on, when the Christmas spirit starts to creep in (i.e. not in September when the shops think it's okay to start screaming at us to buy Christmas stuff), I can't get enough gingerbread, Yogi tea and hot chocolate, mmm mm.

Finally, there's the nostalgia, the sadness. In some ways, this nostalgia is a good thing. It's a sign that things are ending, but after that ending comes a new beginning, a new year. But I can't help but lament the passing of time, especially if the year has passed quickly, and this is the main reason I'm usually so reluctant to let go of summer. Time falls away quickly, like the leaves of the trees, and before I know it the trees will be bare and the time will be gone. Thank goodness all the beauty of autumn and all the joy of Christmas is enough to distract me from unhappy thoughts, and by the time January comes along I'm already looking forward to spring.

Autumn is finally here, both outdoors and in my heart. And soon I'll be munching my gingerbread men and doing my Christmas shopping. But for now, let me wish you a happy season and leave you with a little autumn poem I wrote some time ago...

Autumn Poetry

Norwich, UK, October 2015

Photography: what does it take?

What does it take nowadays to be a photographer? Is some special talent required to take great pictures, or can anyone with a good quality camera and basic editing software call themselves a photographer nowadays?

This question first came to me a few months back, when, for the first time in my life, I was in possession of a phone with a surprisingly decent camera. I love travelling and I love capturing moments which I find particularly beautiful, so you can imagine how overjoyed I was to have a reliable camera at my fingertips whenever I needed it. In the past my photos had mostly been grainy or too dark, and don't get me started on that one camera with which I always had to take duplicate photos in case the first came out blurry. I had resigned myself to buying postcards on my travels to make up for my poor photography, but it's just not the same.

So I finally got a posh new phone with a posh camera, and, of course, my photos got better. I would proudly display them on Facebook, even the arty ones that perhaps no one would care about. But all the same, I wasn't sure what to think when someone asked if I was a professional photographer. "They're just tourist photos" I replied, but it got me thinking. I had never intended to be a photographer. To me, a photographer is someone like my cousin, who takes beautiful photographs and went to college to learn how to use a camera properly. But I do enjoy taking photographs as a hobby. And if I ever had 500 quid to spend on a hobby I would certainly buy a posh Canon or Nikon, the sort with the huge lense and special features, and ask my cousin to show me how to use it. But here's the thing: is a decent camera all it takes? There are so many people calling themselves photographers these days. Most of the people I follow on Instagram post gorgeous, HD photos that I, even with my posh new camera phone, envy. I used to see the transition in people from amateur to professional. Now I see amazing photography everywhere, all it seems to take is the money to buy an expensive camera (or camera phone).

My own Instagram photos aren't that special, and the ability to take selfies seems to have eluded me since I turned twenty (perhaps I just need more make up and better lighting...?), but my "tourist photos", as I call them, have certainly improved. My host was pretty impressed. So, by the sound of it, was her photographer husband.

Perhaps it's social media, making it acceptable, even expected, for us to take photos of every single thing we do or see or buy. Perhaps it's the fact that digital cameras have given us the ability to take pictures of trivial and meaningless things without costing the earth. We've all been given the chance to hone our photography skills. This is a massive leap in the documentary of daily lives, but I wonder, where does that leave our talented, traditional photographers?

Hamburg, Germany, April 2015