That Autumn Feeling

There’s a definite shift happening at this time of year.

The Desert Road has just closed with the first snow of the year, which always feels like a bit of a seasonal marker and signals that winter is on its way. Here at home, the trees are just starting to turn, and those autumn colours are creeping in— tinges of gold, red, and burnt orange scattered across the farm.

It’s getting cooler too. Not quite winter cold, but enough to put on an extra layer and a neck warmer before stepping outside in the morning. The evenings are drawing in faster, and we’ve lit our first fire for the season. That always feels like a bit of a moment—like we’re moving into a different rhythm.

After the pace and pressure of summer and early autumn on the farm, things have started to ease slightly. There’s still plenty to do of course, but the intensity has come off just a touch. Tea time creeps around earlier, and so does bedtime. The days feel shorter, and it feels like being given permission to slow down.

This has always been Anthony’s favourite time of the year, and although I’m a summer lover, I am starting to look forward to Autumn more and more as time goes on.

At the end of a full day, there’s something pretty special about putting the dogs away, heading inside, and settling in for the evening. For us, it’s as simple as dinner done early, fire going, and kicking back on the couch to watch a Netflix series together. Time to switch off.

And this is where our beautiful lambswool throws come in.

There’s a different kind of comfort in wool. It’s not just the warmth—it’s the feel of it, soft but still substantial, and the faint, natural smell that comes with it. It’s grounding in a way that’s hard to explain, but you know it when your wrapped up in it.

Cosying up in a Yarns blanket at the end of the day feels like an extension of everything else this season brings—slowing down, and appreciating the small things.

Autumn has a way of reminding me to take the foot off the accelerator. To notice the change in light, the colour in the trees, and the shift in pace at home and on the farm. 

And if slowing down looks like this, I’m here for it.