The autumn is trying really hard to cling on. The weather is bright and sunny, but there is a real chill in the air and most of the leaves have gone. The colours are not as vivid as a week ago, but they are still beautiful.
The sun is lower, so when I sit to feel its warmth on my face, I can shut my eyes and watch the colours that I can still see on the inside of my eyelids. In direct sunlight there are moving splashes of yellow and orange and rich purple, and, if I turn my back to the sun, they become a mosaic of black, crimson, green and purple.
As the colours start to go in the woods, I randomly photograph the shivering leaves. To look at a tree looks like the colour patterns in the dark depth of my eyes. For
the summer, each leaf has been indistinguishable from the others, but now they are wonderfully individual, as though they have each chosen their own special shade of dusty pink or translucent sand.
I must take the time now to drink in all this colour, before the monochrome of winter.