I miss meadows of blossoms, gardens of roses and pale green grass almost chartreuse in the light. I’m wilting with the Autumn, falling beside the leaves and thinking of the flowers in my descent. Why is it that change holds such a kinship with loss? The wind which carries me through these months holds the loveliest notes of rain, embers of burning leaves and the faintest hints of honeysuckle from some forgotten fairyland far away.
Photo: Mottisfont Abbey Gardens, Hampshire