Mists rise like chimney smoke from the forest and dawn’s rose soon settles over thistle fields where flocks of goldfinches feed on seeds. Birch stem is speckled with drying lichen, sheep are driven into the valleys from high upon their summering moors and spiders build web after web across meadows and woods.

I’ve watched the tawnies in the old barn as they blinked at me from high oak trees as their chicks were growing in the summer. Now they sit in the evening sun, a little bedraggled and tired, after a task well done.

Cow parsley’s crown lays bare and teasels reach up with structural grace. Song-bird dance over morning skies, their tissue-paper wings catching the sun.

Light slashes clouds to dance across fields with driven rain, contrast after contrast over rows of hills.

September’s autumnal glory is as changeable and varied as the caprices of the winds blowing from all directions while I simply wander and wonder and take my time to watch it unfold.