Having succumbed to an autumn whinge yesterday, I thought I’d balance
it up today with something a little more pleasant.
On the opposite side of the lane which runs along the bottom of my garden stands a big old sycamore tree. It’s one of the first local sycamores to adopt autumn colour, and this year has been a particularly vibrant shade of golden yellow. (I expect it has something to do with the warm, dry summer we had this year.)
It stands opposite the front of my house and a little to the right, so if I go into the front bedroom on a sunny morning the sight of it fills the window with its golden glow. To put it simply, the window is full of shiny, golden jewels, and it’s rather pleasant.
(Yes, I know nothing in the material world is innately coloured, but one has to pretend sometimes. And the effect it has on the mind qualifies for the term ‘beautiful.’)
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