Golden leaves in the low afternoon sunlight as we walked the fields. Reds, browns, golds. Feet kicking through yellow maple shapes.
Red rosehips on bare branches. Sloe leaves fading and wrinkling, revealing the smooth blueblackbitter fruit.
Fieldfares clacking as they circle and settle, their long autumn journey complete for another year.
A golden sunset slanting over the distant woodline.
Winter settles in.
