If Summer is a party, Autumn is the quiet drive home. It is, arguably, the best time of year to be an Australian.

It is the season of the "long sleep." You wear wool socks for the first time in six months. You drink Shiraz instead of Sauvignon Blanc. You make soup. Right now, Australia is not the land of sunburn and surf. It is the land of golden light, roaring footy crowds, and crisp mornings that smell of woodsmoke and wet earth.

We are currently in the lead-up to, or the midst of, the Grand Finals. Autumn in the eastern states is the sound of a crowd roaring from a pub on a Thursday night. It is the smell of meat pies and the sight of fans wearing scarves (finally a practical reason to wear them) as they file into the MCG or Suncorp Stadium. The energy is manic, tribal, and loud.

People are suddenly cleaning their garages. They are pressure-washing the driveways. They are signing up for gym memberships they will quit by October. There is a sense of "getting the house in order" before the darkness of June and July sets in.