Beech clumps, beech nuts and beech roots. Oxfordshire.
‘The time of objects floating down from above began. Fall, they called it in America. Autumn arrived slowly in Billingsford. Leaves coloured up like chameleons, red chasing green, chasing yellow, before collapsing into brown. The eerie sense of curling and shrinking grew stronger as the last drops of moisture were squeezed from exhausted veins and dead leaves clung to the trees, each hanging by a thread until that first wet weekend in November when rain slathered mud onto the pavement and autumn was suddenly winter.’
The Insistent Garden.
Rosie Chard 