It's memories of warm pullovers, winter skirts, huddling round the fire, toasting crumpets...
Out in the garden Dad's burning the leaves, and I go out to help him.."Put your coat on, Lisa!" Mum calls out.
I run down to Dad and the smell of smoke feels as comforting as the warmth from the glowing incinerator. He lets me use the poker, to bring air into the fire, but it's so hard, with small hands, to fit it through the fire-red holes, but I try over and again, as we both laugh, then Dad's hands grasp mine, steady the poker and finally the flames come to life....
I turn away from the fire and blow my breath out hard, like a dragon, whoooooohooooohooooooo..and I laugh even more.
The rich colours against the blue sky, oranges, yellows, coppers, reds...How can anything be so beautiful when it's dying? But...maybe we are like the leaves as we get ready for our 'next season', just not able to see the same beauty in our dying bodies...
Out in the garage the big wicker baskets wait to be filled....
Dad and I spend hours with the apple-picker, twisting, pulling, tugging, until the rosy tinged cooking apples fall gently into the net..."That's a lovely one, Liz!" he says, softly picking my catch out of the net, "See the shine on this one!" and he rubs it carefully on his sleeve, before bending down to put it in the box beside his feet....
Finally, when the box is filled we carry it to the garage, where the newspapers lies waiting...A thick layer of paper goes into the deep baskets, taller than I am, they are...then the apples, gently placed, carefully arranged..."Be careful, Liz, they have to last right through to Spring, don't bruise them."
The layers start to rise, the baskets start to fill....until the final layer of paper is triumphantly spread across the top. "A job well done, Liz!" he smiles..and I grin back.
Then indoors for tea and crumpets, and warming our toes by the fire.
Later we take the dogs for walks..kicking through the ankle deep leaves, loving the "shooooshing" crackle they make, seeing the peaty earth beneath...Up in Oxhey Woods the trees are getting their winter coats ready, the woods are looking lighter, as the sun floods through almost empty branches...The dogs race around happily on the soft carpet of leaves beneath their happy feet..
And every now and then, a solitary leaf falls down to join his brothers and sisters....
You get home to the smell of freshly baked apple pie...and Dad smiles..
All this and Christmas is just around the corner!
But first, you have Bonfire Night and fireworks...and you run upstairs to look out over Pinner, right up to Harrow-on-the-Hill, and you see a thousand stars bursting into bright colours against the now bare autumn trees...
And Christmas grows ever nearer...
The next morning you go 'rocket hunting' in the garden, picking up the rogue rockets from next door, seeing just a hint of their original brightly coloured wrapping, around the burnt out bits...Catherine Wheels still stand there, pinned to the clothes prop from the night before, and still the acrid smell of fireworks is in the air...The grass is wet now, the leaves mulchy...
There's roast pork and fresh apple sauce for Sunday Dinner...you picked the apples out yourself "Go careful, Liz, and be sure to put the paper back on top" says Dad...and the garage smells of apples, sweet and rich...The apple picker stands idle now, his job done until next year...
Then one morning you wake up....and the leaves are back again, but this time, they're in your own garden...and your dear Dad has become like a disappearing leaf himself, gone like the whisps of smoke, and the breath from the dragon......
Out comes the rake, and you gather the fallen leaves into piles once more, and bit by bit you fill your own garden incinerator, eventually lighting it, but this time you watch the fire start to burn whilst your own children stand beside you........
And you smile.....warmed by the love of a gentle man who gave you so much love to carry with you, and so many happy memories to hold on to..
And as the bonfire smoke starts to rise on the wind, you know the scent of your Dad is all around you.....and even to this very day, the sweet autumn bonfires bring Dad back to me instantly...and my smile grows ever deeper...