I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon last autumn – the leaves were turning that gorgeous coppery gold, carpeting the lanes like nature’s own confetti. Me and the family piled into the car from Bristol, kids buzzing in the back with crisps and iPads, husband navigating via some dodgy sat-nav that decided to send us on a scenic detour through a muddy farm track. We ended up with a puncture just outside Holsworthy, right as the sun dipped low and painted the sky in those fiery oranges you only get in October. A quick roadside fix from a passing farmer (cheers, mate) and we were back on track, hearts racing a bit but laughing about it over emergency pasties from a nearby van.

Pulling up to the place near Pancrasweek as dusk settled, I felt that proper holiday buzz – you know, when the real world fades and anything’s possible. It’s this cracking six-bedroom barn conversion, all cosy and stylish on these shared grounds with a shimmering lake that caught the last light like a mirror. Our own bit of enclosed garden and a private hot tub sealed the deal – sleeping 12, dog-friendly too, perfect for our extended clan including the soppy Labrador. First impressions? Spot on. The autumn chill in the air made it feel like stepping into a hug.

That time of year shaped everything, didn’t it? Mornings started misty over the lake, steam rising like a witch’s cauldron – we’d gaze out with mugs of tea, plotting the day. Paddleboarding? Aye, we gave it a go one crisp afternoon when the water was glass-smooth, leaves floating like confetti again. I wobbled about like a drunk giraffe at first, splashing the kids who howled with laughter, but it was pure magic, the cold bite sharpening every sense. Evenings, we’d fire up the hot tub under a blanket of stars, the garden hedges turning shadowy sentinels as frost nipped at our toes. Dog romps in the grounds were epic too – he’d chase rustling leaves, coming back plastered in mud that we hosed off by torchlight.

Venturing out, it was all about that seasonal glow. A short hop to Bude – just six miles down the road – for bracing beach walks along Summerleaze, where the sea crashed dramatic under gunmetal skies, and we crunched through dunes dotted with marram grass gone autumn-yellow. Holsworthy’s market was a treat midweek, stalls heaving with local squash, apples, and fudge that tasted like childhood. We did a gentle hike along the Tamar Valley trails nearby, blackberries still clinging to bushes for free-picking (though I ate more than I gathered, classic me). Pub lunch at a cosy spot in the village hit the spot – proper pasties and ale, warming us against the nippy wind.

Looking back, that autumn hush made it special. No summer crowds, just us cocooned in the turning season’s embrace. There was this quiet moment one evening, sat by the lake as fog rolled in, watching the kids roast marshmallows – I thought, blimey, we’re making memories here, proper ones that stick. Amid the chaos of life, it was a gentle nudge to slow down and breathe. If you’re after a getaway that wraps you in Devon’s autumn arms, this is it. We’re already plotting a return.