We’ve had the first significant frosts this week, bringing red sunrise and sunset and another hint of autumn. I walked down Abbot’s Hill, admiring the remaining red berries and – a welcome promise of spring every year – the lambs’ tails of the hazel beside the ditch.
But at the bottom of the hill I was startled to see a leaf dancing its way to earth. Of course I looked down, to find the path littered with hazel leaves, still green, but released from their parent tree as the low sun reached the upper branches. There were more to come, but the catkins on this tree were still tight, nowhere near ready to begin their own tango with the wind. I guess the leaves need to fall before the flowers can open.