I’ll never forget the drive up to our holiday spot in North Wales last autumn – leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold all along the A55, but wouldn’t you know it, we hit a cheeky traffic jam just past Conway thanks to some overenthusiastic sheep blocking the road. Half an hour later, with the sun dipping low and painting the hills in that soft October light, we finally rolled up to this spacious Welsh farmhouse, hearts racing a bit with that proper holiday buzz. From the moment we pulled into the drive, it felt like stepping into a cosy hug – the games room peeking out invitingly, and that lovely garden stretching out with the hot tub steaming gently under a crisp blue sky.

Autumn in North Wales is pure magic, isn’t it? The season wrapped everything in this mellow glow, with the Clwydian Range hills just a stone’s throw away looking like they’d been brushed by a painter’s hand – russet bracken and fading heather everywhere you looked. We were only 2.5 miles from Holywell, so first thing the next morning, after a fry-up that could’ve powered a tractor, we wandered over to St Winefride’s Holy Well. In the gentle October chill, the ancient site felt even more mystical, steam rising from the spring like something out of a fairy tale, and the falling leaves swirling around the pilgrims’ path. No crowds, just us and the whisper of wind through the trees – perfect for a bit of quiet reflection on how fast the year’s flown by.

The farmhouse’s garden became our hub, especially that hot tub. After bracing walks along the nearby Wales Coast Path – crunchy leaves underfoot and that bracing sea air nipping at our cheeks – sinking into the bubbling warmth with a mug of tea was heaven. The colours popping all around made it feel like our own private nature show: golden gorse clinging to the cliffs towards Prestatyn, about 8.5 miles down the coast, though we saved the beach for a sunnier spell. Instead, we pottered to Pennant Park golf course, just 1.5 miles off, where the fairways were carpeted in autumn foliage. I’m no Tiger Woods, mind – managed to lose three balls in the leaf piles, which had us in stitches. Laughing about my duff swings over a pub lunch in Caerwys, the smallest town in Wales at three miles away, was one of those moments that sticks. The local riding school tempted us too, but with the trails knee-deep in leaves, we stuck to strolling the Pennant Walk, spotting red kites wheeling overhead against the harvest sky.

Evenings in the games room were a riot – pool tournaments fuelled by hot chocolate, the woodburner crackling as rain pattered seasonal-style on the windows. It got me thinking, doesn’t it, how a place like this pulls you back to basics? No rushing about, just the rhythm of the seasons reminding you to slow down. North Wales in autumn isn’t flashy like summer, but it’s got heart – cosy, colourful, and utterly restorative. We left with muddy boots and fuller souls, already plotting a return for next year’s leaf-peeping. If you’re after a proper getaway, this corner’s got it in spades.