"The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools. " Henry Beston 1888-1968
I discovered some allotments the other day.
Fine drizzle blurred the patchwork of frost damaged leaves, listing beanpoles, sagging netting and spent stalks.
The season was gently unravelling.
Bright red chard, leeks and brassicas stood proud of the roughly tilled ground.
Great cheer to the gardener.
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