Who knows where the time goes ?

It seems like just yesterday that I was walking in a bluebell wood, and now swallows are flying south and mince pies are in the shops again ( which isn’t of itself a bad thing ).
Sadly I can’t deny it’s autumn ( hello seasonal affective disorder, not nice to see you again ), but the dying thistles are looking good. Which the flowerbed won’t be if all that thistledown takes root.