This mornings walk took me through sunshine, ice, frost and falling poplar leaves. The poplars make a beautiful sound as the wind riffles through them, detaching that last tenuous link and delivering them to the woodland floor. There they lie, making their brief glorious tapestry of colour before boot and nature breaks them down into leaf-mould, a universal colour brown. It reminds me of what happens to the colours in plasticine when it is all modged up together – brown!
We have had a first flurry of snow this week – an hour or so of dense big flakes. Very unusual this time of year, but exciting!
It’s certainly moving us swiftly into winter, and these last few days of leaves must be treasured until next spring.
There are still a few flowers blooming in the fields, stretching out their life cycle – I saw knotweed, nipplewort, red clover and hedgerow cranesbill still trying for a late pollination.
Mr and Mrs Cronkite flew overhead – they do like to draw attention to their passing – Cronk! Cronk!
This poem came into my head as I walked through the falling leaves – very appropriately addressed to me, by Gerard Manly Hopkins…