There is something about Autumn that holds me tight [and the word autumn rather than fall]. Perhaps it’s the thought of losing all that has pleased me so throughout the summer. Perhaps it’s the delicate state of decay that captures [part] of the world. Perhaps it’s the colours, animating everything into a spectrum, not just greens.
Most likely it’s a combination.
I took my camera with me on my daily morning walk, and I found what I’d hoped to find.
The last flower is one of the remaining ones from my mothers garden.
