Descending towards the river's flood plain this morning, its trees, mixed oak and beech mostly, showed just their still green crowns in a bubbling sea of mist. Surrounded by steel skies, like nothing so much as a colossal broccoli soup pan, steaming on the hob.
Signs of autumn are touching some species, colouring them softly. I passed a bank full of old-mans-beard (wild clematis), soaked with dew, surmounted by livid Virginia creeper. The horse chestnuts are again ahead of the pack, trying to lose their insect ravaged foliage now its job of ripening the nuts is done.
Pigs are on the common for pannage and I met with sheep today too. Swallows still swooped at the weekend. Last night was almost cold. Mushrooms are in the field.
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