September; In between summer and autumn, no August heat nor October chill, the leaves still green but with a golden hue nonetheless, the month is a transient time. The leaves on trees are of fresh hue, but where the wind has combed them away with its long, translucent fingers, their fall’s testimony lays fermenting on the forest floor.

Dewdrops transform the mornings with intricately spun webs of crystal, hammocks for fairies, silky and tough.

Mushrooms’ golden caps sprout from every branch, the aroma of wood-bark enriching the air

Nature’s fabric is of a rich jade, embroidered with silver thread and gold frayed edges and the stags start to rut in the woods.

Like dreamcatchers, spiderwebs span their delicate patterns between twigs, collecting the sun rays it seems, to harbour the warmth for days ahead