Autumn in Wycoller
Curiously, the world didn't fall apart when I failed to press 'Publish' on my Caedmon blog yesterday! Anyway, it's there now.
I have to confess that my berberis was planted less for its beauty and more to keep at bay the occasional Wycoller visitor who seeks to trespass upon my decidedly exposed garden! That said, just look at autumn's transformation of the usually dowdy shrub into a thing of great beauty.
The little packhorse bridge, about fifteen paces from my house, is ever beautiful but the dappled light and freshly-fallen leaves lend it an even greater enchantment.
This little patch of water has its own carpeted covering, rather like a textured backdrop to a Pre-Raphaelite painting.
From William Morris to Monet? When I took this shot, I thought I was looking at a frenzied group of water boatmen but now I'm not so sure.
Finally, the humble bramble, whose colours take your breath away. I also like the little insect, perched on one of the leaves.
I'd been struggling to finish my poem about a disenchanted woman who has decided to leave her residence in Italy and return to the UK, looked out of my little window and decided to take a short stroll along the river. So glad I did.
By the way, I think the writer's block, which still has me in its grip, was a punishment from one of the minor gods for my answer to a question at Minsthorpe Community College the other day. A student asked me what I did when I got it; I said it never happened! Serves me right.
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