Sunday 9th December


Walking in a crisp wind, the aroma of Autumn leaf mould, the succulence
of mud beneath our boots. Birds describe quick black marks in the sky,
exit bushes in fear, startled by our arrival on remote paths. Sunlight
through hawthorn thickets, new growth exposed in subtle purples.
The dance of the scribbling hedge rows resumes & I was too busy
to notice that leaves had already left till spring.
Farewell Patrick Moore.