“When yellow leaves…..”

Coldstream Bridge

We were doing the weekly shop in Morrisons this morning, and collected the coupon to save with others to get £25 back before Christmas, and the chatty cashier called after me as I left: “Only two more coupons to collect.  Don’t leave the country!” To which I called back over my shoulder: “I am leaving the country, I live in Scotland.” This is the bridge I cross over to get home.  I seem to have lived on the border between Scotland and England for many years now – apart from a spell in Sunderland I have never lived more than a couple of miles from the Border, and most of the time only within short walking distance, though usually in England.  New powers are to be devolved to Scotland, as was promised during the hysterical run-up to the referendum. This was announced on the news today. I can see the North of England, not to mention Wales and Northern Ireland, not to mention the Fens, not to mention Cornwall,  not to mention Orkney and Shetland et al., getting their knickers in a twist about devolved powers for themselves; and why not, under the circumstances? Constitutional chaos and imbroglios loom.

Last Light

I lean on Coldstream Bridge and look towards the last flicker of the sun above Coldstream itself. Nothing to be seen  on the river  from this vantage point, no birds, no fishing boats; only the reflections of the trees. A cyclist in quite serious travelling gear stops on the bridge and looks for a while in the same direction – perhaps he is conscious of crossing from one country to another. When I stand in the middle of the bridge I don’t know which country I am in.  Preumably because of this confusion,  last year the bridge was not gritted in the cold weather, and there were at least two serious accidents in the space of a few hours; it took months for the stones at the side of the bridge to be repaired. We are moving swiftly towards the winter now.  A nuthatch visited  the bird table today, a rare visitor, I hope this visitation will be not be the last.

November Trees

This line of trees is just down from Coldstream Bridge, on the English side of River Tweed.  The low sun shining from the left gives a fox-coloured tint to the riverside plants on this side of the water.  The water is very still on this late November day.

Five Ducks, Golden Water

The low winter sun shining on the water of the Tweed creates this November silhouette which for some reason reminds me of the tonality of some of Arthur Rackham’s illustrations to “Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens”, pictures that I loved when I was young. And still do.

The Other Side of the Bridge

Ducks by Coldstream Bridge

Impression: Trees, Mist, Light 2

On the Scottish side of River Tweed, these trees stand on the slope going down to the water, the silhouettes of the ivy-covered trunks standing out against the gold hue which lights up the trees further down the slope, the blurring of the colours (because I don’t have a tripod) making the softness of the hues and the foreground shapes seem like a painting created at a certain time in the 20th century.

Impression: Trees, Mist, Light 1

Lights shining from the opposite bank of River Tweed, lighting up the fuzzy silhouette of this tree, the river water invisible in late afternoon mist.

November Afternoon