This is the time for rain. For listening to Elliott Smith. For pumpkin soup. For cold feet, a runny nose and headaches. For the smoke of peat fires in the air and red and brown and yellow leaves rotting in the gutter. For dark mornings and warm beds. For stories, of faeries, Huldufólk , and trolls. For skulls and spiderwebs and the first testing fingers of frost. For sausages and strong beer. For realising that winter is coming, after all.