The north ride and a line from the poem of the same name by Robert Frost. (more…)
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Feels like autumn on the cusp of winter – golds and yellows flash among the green. (more…)
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The east ride and a line from John Clare’s ‘Autumn‘. (more…)
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What are the odds on this feather impaling itself on a cut bramble stem? (more…)
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Signs of Autumn everywhere but the sense is still of a wood green and full of summer. (more…)
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