As we move through nature’s seasonal cycles, we’re reminded here of Autumn’s lovely face as the leaves turn and drop into rustling carpets. The bird song too, is far more muted, the urgent notes of spring’s nuptial courting and the nesting season has diminished. While mid-summer’s robust chorus of shrill cicadas has faded, another ‘singer’ has taken the stage – in a crescendo of volume – the field crickets. Their repertoire of trills, crackles, chirruping may well be music to the ear at a distance, but when they insist on striking up at 3am right under the lounge couch or the sliding patio doors it is enough to drive any sane person nuts. Here’s one of our nondescript looking musicians: just as the bow of a violin is drawn across the strings so the cricket draws a scaper across a file of small teeth and sets the wing covers resonating – and the decibel level? Well, just know that they’re banished from my hearth, and as I write I hear their midnight chorus emanating way down from the bottom end of the garden.