Autumn seems to be arriving earlier this year. The seasons have felt out of sync for a while now, and this walk confirmed that shift. When I left the house at 6am, it was still dark and had just stopped raining, a reminder that the light mornings I’ve got used to are slipping away.

That said, the drive down was beautiful. The sky turned pink as the rain cleared, and it felt like a gentle lift to my spirits after a few days of feeling under the weather. I’d had Covid the week before and wasn’t sure if I’d be well enough to make it, so I was relieved that this was a shorter walk - just 6 miles - and that I felt up to it.

Originally, we had 11 people booked, but with a few last-minute dropouts, there were 7 of us walking - some familiar faces and some new. Ann helped with parking and logistics, and Caroline led the navigation, which made things feel much more manageable.

Our check-in question was shaped by the time of year and our location:

“We’re starting today’s walk at a meeting point in Dorchester, where the River Thame joins the Thames. It’s also the end of August, with September just around the corner. As we head off, what are you meeting in yourself right now - or what’s beginning to shift as the season starts to turn?”

I’ve found myself meeting September with some resistance. It’s been an unusually long summer, and even though I know we need the change of season, part of me wasn’t ready to let it go. Others were in a different headspace - some leaning into transition, others at the start of something new.

We crossed a couple of fields before reaching the river. When we got there, it felt like greeting an old friend. The soft green of the water felt familiar and calm, very different from the clay-brown of the Shropshire Union Canal I usually walk along near home.

I noticed how much fruit was out - blackberries, as we have become accustomed to over the last couple of months, but also sloes, apples, acorns, and even the first conker husks under a beautiful old horse chestnut tree. There were dry amber leaves underfoot too, already carpeting some stretches of the path.

Much of the river was hidden for this stretch, but now and again it revealed itself, through hedgerows, between trees, and we’d pause to take it in. There were lots of lily pads as always, dotting the surface, and in places we passed gardens that ran right down to the water’s edge, including one just outside Dorchester that looked like it had once belonged to a grand estate.

We had to leave the river briefly and walk along a busy main road, which was a sharp contrast. It felt noisy, grey, and polluted, and it made us even more aware of the calm we usually get on these walks. That short stretch also highlighted the difference in how people treat the space - there was a noticeable amount of litter along the roadside, no doubt discarded from passing cars. As we always aim to leave the places we walk better than we found them, we got the litter picker out and nearly filled the bag we’d brought with us with the discarded cans and fast-food wrappers.

Lunch was in Shillingford, next to the river under a cluster of willow trees. The shade came in handy when a quick downpour passed overhead, but it didn’t last long. The bridge to cross to the path on the other side of the river at that point was closed, so we caught the Benson Ferry across the Thames - just £2 each, skippered by George, who made the five-minute crossing feel like a bit of an adventure, leaving Jonathan and I to comment that perhaps we should have done the entire Source to Sea journey via boat!

After lunch, we had a 10-minute reflective silence with the invitation to notice anything red as we walked. Not long after, we passed a bunker on the opposite bank, now painted as a war memorial with a Spitfire and three soldiers surrounded by large red poppies and I wonder if we would have been as open to noticing it without the invitation to bring red into our mind.

The weather kept shifting - drizzly in the morning, then warm with blue skies by the afternoon. I was regretting wearing my sweatshirt by the end of the walk! We passed paddleboarders, kayakers, and a group of boys jumping into the river from tree branches as we neared Wallingford, which gives an indication to the fact that summer is still with us, hanging on amidst the fallen leaves.

The walk felt just right - shorter than some of the others, but still full of things to notice. Our check-outs picked up on some lovely metaphors, including one from someone who said emptying the litter bag reminded her of letting go of some emotional clutter. For me, this walk felt full of contrast - quiet and noisy, grey and green, sun and rain. It made me think that maybe we’re not jumping from one season to the next, but gradually easing in.

Our next two walks are both in September, and I’m curious to see what the month brings - what changes we’ll see in the landscape, and what it might reflect to us in ourselves.

If you'd like to join us on our Source to Sea journey, you can find the latest schedule and link to book here.