I’ll never forget the drive up to Hexham in early autumn – that crisp September weekend when the Northumberland air starts whispering promises of cosy nights in. I’d packed the car with too many jumpers, a flask of tea, and my dog, Monty, who was vibrating with excitement in the back seat. The journey from the A1 was a dream, winding through those golden hills dusted with turning leaves, the hedgerows heavy with blackberries begging to be picked. But typical me, I took a wrong turn just outside Hexham, ending up in a muddy farm lane that had Monty barking like we were starring in a countryside thriller. Fifteen minutes of reversing and sheep-dodging later, we emerged unscathed, both of us laughing at my rubbish sat-nav skills.

Pulling up to The Hexham (Pet) just as the afternoon sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the stone cottage, felt like stepping into a proper autumn postcard. Tucked away in a quiet spot near Hexham, it’s one of those traditional Northumberland farm cottages that scream “get your wellies on.” The seasonal shift was everywhere – the garden out front was a riot of rusting ferns and fading lavender, with a chill breeze rustling the trees that made me instantly crave the wood-burning stove I’d read about. Monty bolted out, nose to the ground, sniffing the earthy dampness that only early autumn can brew, while I hauled our bags up the path, leaves crunching underfoot like nature’s own applause.

First impressions? Bloody brilliant. Unlocking the door, we were hit with that welcoming rush of warmth from the Aga humming away in the kitchen – a godsend against the dropping temperature outside. The place is compact but perfect for two (plus pooch), with low-beamed ceilings that made me feel like a character in a Beatrix Potter tale, albeit one with a dodgy back from stooping. The living room’s squashy sofa faced a window framing the rolling fields, where the late sun turned the grazing sheep into fluffy golden orbs. Monty claimed his spot by the fireplace straight away, tail thumping as if he’d been holidaying here for years.

That first evening shaped everything. With dusk falling early – proper Northumberland style, where twilight creeps in by half-five – we lit the wood burner, its crackle mingling with the scent of pine logs and Monty’s wet-dog aroma after a quick garden scamper. I rustled up a stew from local bits I’d grabbed in Hexham market that morning: Northumbrian beef, carrots still dusted with soil, and a splash of ale from a nearby brewery. The cottage’s kitchen was a joy, all sturdy oak worktops and hooks for mugs, ideal for autumnal pottering while rain pattered gently on the slate roof. Peering out, I watched mist roll in from the Tyne Valley, softening the hills into a watercolour blur. It was magical, that seasonal hush, broken only by Monty’s snores.

Wandering just down the lane the next morning – day two of our three-day jaunt – the autumn influence hit harder. Leaves carpeted the paths in fiery reds and coppers, perfect for Monty’s zoomies, and the air had that sharp, invigorating bite that turns a simple dog walk into an event. We skirted the edges of Hexham’s outskirts, spotting roe deer in the woods and picking a handful of sloes for gin later. Back at the cottage, brewing tea in the sunlit conservatory (a sneaky bonus spot for watching the world go by), I had one of those gentle moments of reflection. Sat there with steam curling from my mug, Monty at my feet, I realised how this time of year strips things back – no frantic summer crowds, just you, the turning season, and a cracking cuppa. It’s humbling, innit? Makes you appreciate the quiet rhythm of places like this.

By our third morning, with frost nipping the grass and a low sun piercing the fog, The Hexham (Pet) had us hooked. That first impression lingered through every misty dawn stroll and fireside evening, all amplified by autumn’s mellow magic. If you’re after a Northumberland getaway that feels like a warm hug from the countryside, this is it – especially when the leaves are falling and the stove’s glowing. Monty and I didn’t want to leave.