Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Between Worlds.

For all my recent complaining about autumn, it does have one expression that fills the heart with a melancholy, yet still rich, kind of comfort. I saw it in Bag Lane today when I walked down to post a letter.

The trees along the fringes of the Old Rectory garden were between worlds: half clothed in dappled golds and browns and reds and greens, but now shamelessly revealing the stark and skeletal black branches of their inner selves. And beneath them, mirroring – or maybe echoing – their new-found transparency, were the verges, deep in the stillness of the fallen ones nestled into the bottoms of dark hedgerows and flowing into the footings of old stone walls.

The air was damp, quiet and misty, and everything glowed in its swansong.

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