The valley was lost in the mist this morning, as often happens in Autumn and Winter. However, unlike some days when the mist stays, giving a damp grey day, the sun soon came through and it blossomed into a beautiful warm sunny day. Dew covered cobwebs lay like hammocks along the hedgerows, and hung sparkling from gates.
The fungi are out in force now with all colours shapes and sizes popping up through the dew covered earth.
Over the last few weeks and again this morning saw a huge hornet, I've never seen as many as this year and they are very pretty, with lovely bright yellow, red and black markings, though must admit I'm a little wary of getting too close!
Some of the lovely natural meadow land along the Olway valley has only just been cut and hay baled, which is fantastic for wildlife as it has very little negative impact upon it- the birds, mice insects and all other creatures have reaped the summer benefits of the long grass and wildflowers before it was cut.
Since the equinox on the weekend the days are getting shorter with darkness falling not long after 7 pm, though today, the sun is trying not to give in to winter!
Ode: Autumn-Thomas Hood.(lines from)
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn; --
Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Where are the songs of Summer? -- With the sun,
Oping the dusky eyelids of the South,
Till shade and silence waken up as one,
And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth.
Where are the merry birds? -- Away, away,
On panting wings through the inclement skies,
Lest owls should prey
Undazzled at noon-day,
And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes.
Where are the blooms of Summer -- In the west,
Blushing their last to the last sunny hours,
When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest
Like tearful Proserpine, snatched from her flowers
To a most gloomy breast.
Where is the pride of Summer, -- the green prime, --
The many, many leaves all twinkling? -- Three
On the mossed elm; three on the naked lime
Trembling, -- and one upon the old oak tree!
Where is the Dryad's immortality? --
Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew,
Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through
In the smooth holly's green eternity.
The squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard,
The ants have brimmed their garners with ripe grain,
And honey-bees have stored
The sweets of summer in their luscious cells;
The swallows all have winged across the main;