I loathe shortening days – an anxiety sets in – alleviated only by the coming and going of the 21st December, when I swear the days lengthen again with a flourish. I expect it is all in the mind – the slight panic when your days ‘work’ isn’t done, when an hour seems like thirty minutes and it is dark once again.
But I love autumn, the golden leaves light the roadsides, where dull dusty green clothed them throughout summer. Beech in particular are a golden ochre, brown, and yellow. Sycamore seeds carpet our garden, yet still I admire the glorious creamy-yellow, buttercup-yellow and primrose hues of the sycamore leaves. Rich reddish-pink, salmon and fuchsia illuminate the dark wet trunks of several cherries and our purple maple, dulls to a musty orange, against the red crab apples on the neighbouring tree.
Fiery red shades on liquidambar – some like burnished mahogany cling to the branches, their prickly fruits hang like baubles – contrasting in texture with the smooth leaves.