Strolling around the Breamish valley in Northumberland after days of relentless rain, one simply cannot ignore the fact that autumn’s colours have hit their peak. Just a few days back, they seemed rather withered, but the rain has injected vibrant life into the dying leaves, rejuvenating them quite remarkably.
About a week ago, prior to the arrival of Storm Babet, the countryside had a somewhat sere appearance. However, the rain has splendidly rejuvenated the colours. Some oaks now don a pale yellow hue, while what I initially mistook for a horse-chestnut turned out to be the rich, aged gold of a cherry tree. Beeches have begun to rust into an array of tawny browns, and the bracken now adorns a warm, deeply satisfying shade of rich mahogony.
Bleeds of haws and rose-hips paint the hedgerows with a winter larder for the birds. A mulch of fallen leaves cushions the roads underfoot. The memory of the autumnal equinox is slowly fading, giving way to the rapid approach of Christmas.
In the late afternoon, a leisurely walk around the Branton Lakes Nature Reserve. Sunset is not too far off — a time that heightens the senses. A surprising break in the cloud cover, and the sun delivers a magical encore.
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