A conker hit my car today (OK, it was yesterday). I guess it must be autumn in Bristol. We have an open green space near the area I live in Bristol called the Downs – it’s the green lung of North Bristol. People play football there, run round it, have picnics in summer and there are also many Horse Chestnut trees there.
Come the autumn, all the conkers (I don’t know if that’s the word you use in the US?) drop onto the ground and where they overhang the road they drop onto the passing cars too, like the one that went Bonk! on my windscreen. I knew it must be autumn!
My children used to love to go out and collect them and we’d make a big bowl of them on the table, shining like jewels. Then they’d go a bit shrivelled and I’d throw them out, but lovely while it lasted. Although I wouldn’t mind a bit of all-year-round-sun-shine, there is something nice about marking the seasons with the things that nature brings us. The conkers on the Downs mark the autumn for me.