Out of October...
Orange and ochre, copper and cinnamon and leaves in the sky...
Leaves are just beginning to fall, caught in them, all the golden hue of summer…
“And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days...”
― Dylan Thomas
Hello lovely readers, if you’re new here welcome, if you’ve visited before, welcome back. This is my monthly post which captures, more in photographs than in words, the colours of the month. If you would like to see previous issues, please click which ever month you’d like at the bottom of this page, Enjoy… xx
October has come to us in two halves, hot then cold, clear then murky, dry then wet. Call it what you will… the change was sudden and as such, rather brutal. I cannot deny having luxuriated and languished in what remains of the meadows, taking in every last drop of light, vitamin D and warmth. I have applied liberally the soothing balm of a long Indian summer, wishing silently it would stay just a few days longer.
And, watched the clouds whisk up their colours with the sun…
Much needed rain has arrived though, menacingly low grey smudges of cloud obliterate the hill, sometimes furiously hurried by the winds, at others slow and ambulant leaving us floating above as if this little hamlet I inhabit is the only place that exists. A top of the world feeling at best and drowning at worst… annoyingly, always just visible, the telegraph pole that is the constant ‘blot on the landscape’ I try to love from my kitchen window.
“How beautiful was the spectacle of nature not yet touched by
the often perverse wisdom of man!”
― Umberto Eco
Ordinarily I dread the first rains of autumn but this year, the second of below average rainfall and overheated temperatures, the rain feels refreshing, rejuvenating even. Everyone and everything is sighing in relief. Until a few days ago, the air was dusty, heavy to carry and breathe, all land parched and grey, beige at best, the cause of yet another summer of record temperatures. Even now, in the valley bottom the river is still just dry lane of tumbled stones waiting patiently for their polishing to continue, across all but one north facing field, the slopes on my hill are motionless, their breathing hampered by lungs that no longer have oxygen, leaves everywhere are that saddest of greys as they wilt and finally fall in capitulation to ‘la canicule’. I wish only that the trees and their deep roots have enough energy left to dress in their gregarious golds and rich browns before they are all returned to nourish the soil.
Time for wonderful has been scarce in October. I’ve spent every second possible out in the elements no matter their form, trying to capture enough tiny details to last until next year. The bleached grasses, intricately woven together in gossamer thread, plump blue sloes waiting for frosts to sweeten them, butterflies, motionless in the chill of evening air and seductive breezes from all compass points hustling the trees, as if telling them, ‘we are here, let me undress you…’
On this day last year I wrote of そよ風 (Soyokaze) meaning a slight breeze in Japanese, or breathe of air, a zephyr - in October you could touch a word like that…
And, just when I think the riches of autumn have deserted my hill completely, the colours, slowly, almost hesitantly begin their changing. Honey gold bracken bends in dewy light, heart shaped, lemon tinted Tilieul Lime leaves, a flurry at a time in the will of the wind land on my steps, through the branches of trees charcoal streaks the blue…
And I know, summer is over.
As it does every year and without a backward glance, the warmest of seasons has turned to our opposite side to chase away winter, to warm different trees and whole other countries. I lament it’s leaving in an empty space, for autumn too will soon leave me shivering in only the bare bones of winter…
“The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.”
― E.M. Forster
Enjoy the fog… xx
October recommendation;
Simon Haisell’s, Footnotes and Tangents - words and memories, footnotes and thoughts, intimately and intricately woven with nature, is simply beautiful writing.
i'll take an Owl butterfly with a side of Peaches 'n Cream, Susie 📸
Perfect duo of photos and words, enhancing our experience of Nature’s life cycle, the letting go and sacrifice of one season for the emergence of a new one. I understand your reluctance to welcome winter when Autumn’s hues are so warm and stunning. Love n light Dearest Susie ✨🌟✨