Looking Up into Birch Leaves

Still these blue skies during the day, but in the evening the air has an edge of frost. The clocks have gone back. Down the side streets in Coldstream, in the late afternoon, I can hardly see my way between the dim orange glow of the widely-spaced street lamps.Today was the first time I have worn gloves for months, I had to burrow my way between old soft  hats to find them. Back to work time, I think: a book of high summer.  I am going to spoil myself by ordering the most exotic colours I can find in designer gouache. I cannot understand how I buy paint, I have tubes and tubes of raw umber.  Why?  No more of this.  It’s violets and fuchsias, and dark maroon I want, though why these autumnal tints are going to represent high summer I don’t know.  Just call it self-indulgence.  There will be lots of naples yellow used and yes, some raw umber no doubt.  And I need to find out how to create a green so dark it verges on black.

Happy

October Fields 2

October Fields 1

The fields have changed colour, from the ochre of the stubble to the rich dark chestnut of the Berwickshire ploughed-up earth and the bright green of the new sowings. On the edge of the hills there is that one small silhouette of a tree, that one sees from all angles in Coldstream, as it stands there like a sentinel looking down on the slopes of the hills, the spread of the farmland, the waters of River Tweed. The Tweed is often described as “the silvery Tweed” which suits it.  Like all water it changes with the sky; however, widening out as it approaches the North Sea, it often shines with a silvery sheen, like the many salmon that swim its waters. The river is just beyond the ploughed field, with the pale green field beyond on the opposite bank.

October Woodland, The Hirsel Estate

For two days now there have been high winds, with flurries of rain and sunshine.  Yesterday I walked up the pathway beside the golf course which segues into the path where the pheasants have right of way. There are always birds on this path, they fuss off when I approach, really it isn’t public footpath terrain, though the pathways are quite clear to follow.  The woods are bright and showy at the same time, the ground thick with ferns. When the wind blows leaves careen down like fairy coins. When I went further into to the wood I heard the dogs barking from the lodge, and the pheasants shrieking; possibly it was my footsteps that were causing this disturbance. Later in the day there was a rainbow, briefly, above the garden; and today the winds have been howling from dawn to dusk, the clocks have gone back, I have stayed indoors, though him outdoors did the usual six mile walk, dressed for the weather, head to foot. New boots have been bought via the Internet: apparently they were supplied to the French Foreign Legion.

Heron by the Weir 2

Out on a walk toward the Hirsel I stopped to look down at the water of the River Leet as it flows under the main bridge leading out of Coldstream towards Kelso.  The water reflected blue, and gold leaves were floating fast over the weir, it was pretty, so I leant over and was taking some photographs when I saw this heron just beyond the weir.  It looked like it was standing in a nest of fallen leaves. I took three or four photographs of the bird, but then when I looked again it had vanished. A man on the bridge stopped to talk and said herons had been taking all his goldfish, until he netted the pond.  I think they can sense fish from miles off.

Heron by the Weir 1

 

Autumn Water 2

So many layers in this little patch of water by the Irish Bridge.  The leaves being hurried down towards where the Leet joins River Tweed.  The trees are decked in glorious colours as their leaves age – maybe one should follow their example and start to go forth in garish colours and dazzle the populace.  New leaves in the Spring though?  No such luck!

Autumn water 1

Three Swans