Beneath a full moon, a pink mist tumbles and rolls, blanketing the contours, icy grass and spectral trees.
The chalk track is greasy and slick underfoot, catching the unwary walker. The early morning autumn sun is very low and shining straight into my face so I can’t see what’s ahead; camouflaged dog turds amongst the decaying, but still colourful leaf mush underfoot. What a transition this is; full of surprises, unexpected warmth, indecision, heart-stopping vistas, big weather, colours, smells and rapid change.
Berries looking bright, exposed bramble thorns sharp and strong, contrast with the limp leaves left clinging before the next autumnal storm barrels on through. The leaf canopy begins to open up the landscape, earthworks, structures and forms hidden over the summer, emerge once again. Smears of decaying russet lie beneath the bare trees.
The wind alternates between still-warm southerlies to a sharp poke in the ribs when gusting from the north. This temperature jolt, necessitates wardrobe changes from the open-toed to the practical and waterproof; we will all look the same for the next six months. Told apart by our dogs perhaps?
Autumn offers up the landscape to winter, mists, and wisps of soft cloud contrasts with the hard shapes emerging. Overhead, the vapour trails become visible as the temperature drops. The number of red or blue-tupped sheep on the hills has increased, as does the wet slurry of their daily routine sloped onto the paths and animal tracks. Rutting deer on the move.
The sun still feels warm – just, but if you walk through a dip, it can get noticeably very cold. Puddles of icy water already formed, but too thin to bother cracking with my boot.
Waves of noisy geese, sometimes so low I can hear the beat of their wings, flying east to west and back again every morning at dawn and then at sunset (sometimes by the light of the full moon), their scraggly formations getting larger and neater as their departure date gets closer. Heading off to somewhere warmer than here. Winter visitors have arrived; waxwings, redwings, bramblings and fieldfares.
In the low light I notice for the first time, countless silk threads attached to individual blades of grass, the juvenile spiders long blown away in the wind. Across the heath, illuminated by car lights and flashing dog collars, the chill and early darkness set in.
The Chilterns 