The last of the turning colour

It was late today by the time the forecast clear skies appeared. The sun was low and the colours seemed to have been leached by days of leaden clouds, wind and rain. Well, beggars can't be choosers, I told myself  as I tugged on wellies and picked up the camera.

The oak that frames our view of the field behind the house has turned dull brown, as usual the last and least vibrant of autumn colours but against the sky and the shadows across the recently turned earth of the field there is the pleasing subtlety of a Ravilious print.

Subtle too, the darker tones seemingly airbrushed onto the fading wiegela leaves.

Some brighter colour from the wild rose hips and beech leaves still clinging to the branches.
And finally a promise. What is that saying about gardening being an expression of faith in the future? At last I was able to plant out some Pheasant's Eye narcissus.

With a name like Poeticus Recurvus and the promise of fragrance they have to be something to look forward to don't they?