What the hedge kept

I had left it a week too late for the leaves on Ashby Ridge. Or perhaps the wind had arrived a week early. Either way, the broad orange strip I remembered from last autumn had become a low tangle of branches, with a few stubborn leaves rattling at the ends.

It was still a good walk. The ditch had caught nearly everything the hedge had dropped, and the wet leaves there were darker and richer than the ones still hanging on. I tried a close view, but the picture mostly explained what a wet ditch looks like. Some things are better to bend down and look at than to take home.

Further along, the hedge stops beside a leaning post. Beyond it the field is open all the way to the next rise. I have walked past that ending many times without giving it much thought. With the leaves gone it seemed abrupt, almost deliberate, and the pale path below it gave the whole view somewhere to go.

I stayed on the sheltered side to change the camera settings. The wind was strong enough to flap the loose end of the strap against my hand. Every time I thought the light had settled, another cloud slid over and changed the colour of the field. I made fewer pictures than usual and spent more time just holding the gate shut.

There is probably a very precise name for this stage of autumn. I keep calling it the untidy part. The colours have gone quiet but the shapes are easier to see. Next year I might come back at the same time on purpose, provided I remember how much warmer a second pair of socks would have been.