Skeleton trees

The leaves are dropping fast now, in this brisk north wind. I love seeing the "skeletons" of the trees and in my fanciful moods, imagine them as people. Ash trees are graceful, ditzy women, with lots of scarves, necklaces and bangles and floaty clothes. Oaks are very masculine, tough, muscular, rather macho. Horse Chestnuts are smart career women, with not a hair out of place, sharp-suited, with powerful personalities. Birch trees, when young, are teenage girls, graceful, slim, beautiful, danging through life. Older birth trees are still graceful, but life has lined them. Hawthorns are really muddled, messed-up people, struggling through life, finding it tough, but still with something to offer as their fruit ripens.

And perhaps I'd better stop there, or you will be calling for the ambulance to take me away! ;)

Leaves

The little Rowan tree in our garden, which I raised from a tiny seedling, has developed the most wonderful leaf colours this autumn. The top of the leaf is a dusky purple, while the underside is scarlet. It was so difficult to photograph this, as the wind was blowing the leaves around, but I managed to capture the beautiful colours (even if some of them are not in focus!)

Similarly the ornamental cherries in the Park behind us. Before the wind tears the leaves off, they are subtle shades of soft yellow, orange and light green. There doesn't seem to be the big vistas of autumnal colours this year, but I've changed my focus, and found the colours are in the small things.

Chaos

We have the builders in at the moment. Well, not in the house, but backwards and forwards to the back garen where they are taking down the old wood-panelled fence that was vandalised and unstable, and putting up chain-link fencing. They have cut down the pathetic privet hedge that was there to about 18ins off the ground in the fond hope it will spring forth and cover up the chain-link stuff. Eventually. But what with having to provide various odd bits of equipment, and cups of tea every hour on the hour, cement dust and bits of privet everywhere, I don't know whether I am coming or going!

Still, I think they have nearly finished, so apart from a clean and tidy up, peace looks like returning.......... (for a while, anyway)

Picking up the moonlight

Having to get up at 5.0 am this morning (to go to the bathroom, as one does) the moon was shining brightly through the curtains. As I wriggled out of bed, I stooped to pick a tissue up off the floor. Couldn't get hold of it! Took a few seconds, in my bleary state to realise I was trying to pick up the moonlight on the floor!

Put it down to old age!

Beech tree roots

Autumn (Fall)

Is it my imagination, or are the autumn colours just not as good as we expect? Maybe its the wet summer, but in the park here the leaves are falling off the sycamore and beech trees without any change of colour.

We used to live on the Chilterns, and the beech trees there were wonderful in their autumnal glory. I loved walking in the woods, seeing the light filtered through the orange and yellow leaves. Then, when all the leaves had fallen, I could "shoosh" my feet through the dry leaves. (A childhood habit that has regrettably lasted well into the age of maturity!)

But back to Cheshire and 2008. Individual trees are putting on a magnificent show. I have a Moutain Ash (Rown) tree I raised from a seedling I found in the garden. Its leaves are a glowing scarlet. Many of the trees in the park are specially planted, of course, for their beauty, but I am ignorant as to their names. Some, which from the shape of the leaves must be a sort of Maple, are bright yellow in spring - the leaves, that is, and then bright yellow again in autumn. Now, after all this wind, they are just yellow pools underneath bare branches.

Beginnings

I was persuaded, fairly easily, by my daughter that having one's own blog was a Good Thing. Haven't quite got the hang of organising the look of it yet, but working on it!

Today, the wind is blowing all the leaves off the trees. At this time of the year I rather like the leaves falling, as it means I can see the hills across the valley. (By the end of the winter I am tired of skeleton silhouettes, and long for the fresh green leaves to appear!) The hills in question are the beginnings of the Peak District, a National Park whioch is really in two bits, the southern part, the White Peak - limestone country, and impressive gorges, rivers and white drystone walls, and the nmorthern part, the Dark Peak - millstone grit and wild uplands, bogs, curlews and solitude. I love them both.

Alas, I cannot walk now unaided, and although I manage to get around with two crutches when outside, there is a limit to how far I can go. But I am working hard on being able to walk better, and maybe tackle some of the paths with just one stick!

However, I am pleased to say that my mind is still in good working order! I enjoy all sorts of sedentary activities, am learning to crochet, and in between sitting at the computer, reading books and getting muddled with wool, I love cooking, hate cleaning, and enjoy taking our dog, a cocker spaniel, out in the adjoining Park.