light shines the grey twigs | illuminates the last leaves | as it slips lower
 
 

spangles & low light

low light through layers of winter flora.
mid morning the light scattered into the house as the sun hit the mirror balls and glass that hang waiting for winter light, a disco of spangles. the slight heat causes the balls to twirl on their strings. the small things that can make a difference to a day.
now I must go and check on the motley crew of new chooks that have recently arrived, all sizes, but all young. a mixed bag. some still very peepy like chicks. I hope they all made it into the hen house with the ridiculously heavy downpour earlier.
how soon it has become November...

bridge

I have just seen a photograph on flickr, you can see it here, it made me feel so sad. I thought of snow (I love the snow) as I looked at it  and at the same time it was quintessentially autumn, a season that I consider very creative. But my heart sank and I felt my mouth my eyes change, my chest, shoulders....I looked at it and thought I don't want to cross any more bridges, especially not slippery wet leafed ones.

Am I not brave enough?

oh and I have been away from home for 6 weeks....

orange & blue

a gift of quince/japonica from my neighbour Chairman


on my way to the estuary, blue sky and oak leaves

this is a willow herb on the estuary in later August, but I thought of it today, the soft grey weather perhaps. It suits a tiredness that I feel.

We have had a many sunny warm days until yesterday when we were enveloped in deep deep pale grey, days where there was a clear skied slip into night from day: luminous numinous liminal.

The starlings arrive whirr wooble tribble. The jacdaws were performing a well orchestrated game this morning that I wondered about, until I heard the starlings, there had been a patch invasion, so the jacdaws were involved in a thorough 'we claim the trees'. The long tailed tits have been peeppeeping in the birch trees the last 3 mornings, in stark contrast the other day one fragile birch was heaped with jacdaws.

Inside a twine of feelings, sensations, many worldless; some confusions and some clarity. I want to be walking the coast path between Ceibwr and the Witch's Cauldron, with someone in particular.

autumn delphinium

electric blue delphinium stems in the browning autumn garden.

red admiral, soft breeze in brittle leaves, buzzard, lost ball…what more could one ask for... except maybe to share it. Sad and happy together, warm sun.

pink edge to sky and an egg moon, cool fragrant air and chinking blackbirds.

It has been a long week.

An oak twirls a snow storm of golden green leaves into the field.

neges P.A.N.

azure & gold morning

Is this the end of the dahlias? The forecast is for frost. There are so many of them, and a smothering of buds still. The sun spangles the water droplets.
The man who planted the dahlias lies dying and I wonder if this week will bring his death too, it seems very possible. Should we have early fireworks, he enjoys them so much?



and I stole someone elses words (P.A.N.) for this morning elsewhere, and used them here in the title.

today, in the garden

I am enjoying watching the leaves fall and the trees slowly becoming bare, at times a whole tree takes off, it is but a bundle of jacdaws. The sun gets through more now, though of course is less in the sky, but being lower it also comes into the house. Two days ago, a few miles away I saw one dozen red kites.

for one minute of sunset click here

quince, two in the hand

food of the gods...

walking the estuary in the autumn

september, still

Oh how I could continue to wax lyrical about september...

The air is much cooler, even as it is still, one can feel it, is there a word for a breeze that is barely a breeze, the slightest movement of air, because the sun is heating it, so that one can feel it on ones skin, just? And just cool enough to brush through when walking.

Birch leaves scatter everywhere. All the leaves are thinning and allowing flickering light through, less deep shade than in high summer.

There is a strong sense of change, of gathering together, but also for me of wanting to wildly abandon...oh dear....

There is a silence behind the squalls that come over dark dark, then leave a rinsed out sharp sky, sharp air. Heavy rain on the roof last night, I like to stay awake to hear it.

roses in september

roses in september, alongside apples and falling birch leaves, the scents of autumn.

clear sun, dew laden mornings. cobwebs. garden crops. chiff chaff!