Holding on

Going into Lancaster so often (for the hospital) has made me very aware of the changing colours of the seasons. As we enter the city we pass Ryelands Park with its magnificent trees & green areas. The first trees to show the signs of the coming autumn were the horse chestnuts. Their large 7 fingered leaves were the first to turn golden. As time has gone on, more & more tress joined them in their celebration of colour. This week I couldn’t help noticing most of the trees were bare, simple skeletons of their summer selves. The only deciduous trees that still held onto their coloured leaves were the horse chestnuts, a little thin now but still holding on.

A not dissimilar thing has happened in our garden. The first to change colour was the acers which became a glorious vibrant red. Other more yellowy leaves appeared elsewhere. The last to change were the silver birches. Then the winds came & leaves blew everywhere. Now the only deciduous tree with leaves on is one of the acers, still vibrantly red. The silver barks of the silver birches stands out against the acer’s brilliance & the redness of the Virginia creeper on the fence at the far end of the garden.

I do love the colours of autumn. We often think one of the days we ought to go to New England to see the colours. My Dad came back from a holiday there full of their brilliance. The leaves were so much bigger, so much redder, more golden, than here. Who know one of these days we may get there.