Autumn at its peak is a sight to behold. To me it was an unfamiliar phenomenon, in some faraway place, seen only in pictures.

It's just been a year since autumn became a subject close to my heart. I vividly remember it being a Saturday, in early November, when the postman delivered that package home.

It was from my fiancé. He had sent me presents before, but they arrived at my office and had always been from a 'friend'. This was the first since our betrothal.

My best friend was visiting from Bombay and as we opened it together, I knew she shared my excitement. Twenty-four photographs were tucked into an album, one that did not do justice to its contents. They were all spectacular shots, mostly of breathtaking fall colours.

As I turned the leaves, I paused to notice the caption of a picture: 'Sunset at Door County. We need to watch this together next fall.' It made my day.

When I arrived in Wisconsin early this year, the days were bleak and the nights long. It was time for winter to bid adieu, but it was lingering on. Eventually, spring set in, only to hurriedly give way to summer. And all along, I had my heart set on autumn.

By mid-September, there was an announcement in the local news bulletin that autumn would start, officially, by the fourth week of September.

Anyway, by then, the days had become cool and pleasant. Such weather ought to have made me euphoric, because I endure with great difficulty the extreme heat and cold alike. But as I lay, lost in thought one lazy afternoon, I realised my days had become dull. I found myself frantically checking for signs of depression.

And I began to wonder why. I missed calls and skipped gym to dwell on it. In a few hours, I thought I had it all figured out, at least to my satisfaction.

It seemed my husband and I, somehow, weren't going out or seeing places. Establishing this theory for a fact wasn't easy.

Finally, it came to light that the very autumn I had been waiting for was wreaking havoc on my days. The sun was rising late and setting early, robbing us of precious 'daytime'. What a disappointment that revelation was!

Summer days were long and had formed a habit. We awoke early, the blinds unable to contain the sun's eager rays and the modest air-conditioner failing to cope. And after work, we still had a good three hours of daylight that slowly graduated into what my perception of evening and night were.

So that was the issue -- less daylight, which meant less inclination to go out or do things. Six in the evening, we'd barely have had our tea together and there would be no sunshine. This was playing tricks with my mind, leaving me with the feeling that the day was over and done at six.

We discussed this matter, discussions being one of our favourite pastimes. He was quick to understand the trouble. We made it a point to make use of the evenings; we decided not to surrender without a fight. The mornings couldn't be helped; they were too cold and cosy to resist.

Slowly, the leaves started changing colour. And that lifted my spirits. My camera became a constant companion.

And one morning, at breakfast time, he suggested I join him for a ride. We went around the neighbourhood, in and out of those tucked-away avenues, rich and ablaze in autumn flame. What a wonderful way to start a day!

Our good friend Jose, a self-proclaimed travel guru, suggested many destinations. He even gave us directions in print. And in the following weekends, we found ourselves at nearby lakes and faraway hills enjoying picturesque autumn settings and spectacular evening skies.

My husband made plans for a weekend getaway to Door County to watch the fall colours, but I think it was mainly to keep the promise of watching the sunset together.

Door County is a peninsula in northeast Wisconsin. From what met my eyes, I would assume the place is heavenly all year through, but it is especially so in autumn. Laid-back little towns, brimming with country charm, and water on both sides made it the state's most popular getaway of the season.

The roads either ran by the waterfront or through paths lined with woods. Small general stores, quaint specialty shops, homely eateries and unassuming motels dotted its sides.

We drove endlessly, stopping once in a while, to admire the beauty around and capture it on film. By early evening, the skies started to cloud and we lost hope of watching the sunset.

We were on our way back when we caught the sun setting over the pristine waters of Green Bay. I pulled over into a lane that turned out to be the driveway of a desolate inn, coincidentally named Sunset Motel.

It was quiet. We were alone atop a deck on a private beach witnessing one of the most beautiful sunsets of our lives.

We drove away, filled with the richness of the experience and the realisation that there was so much to be grateful for and so less to complain about.

I whispered to myself: "Thank you, Autumn -- and goodbye."

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