It never ceases to amaze. Get the timing right, just before a big storm or a wet day, the turning colours of England’s autumnal fall are a sight to behold.
On a crisp dry October day, we burned down the A303 (‘you can find your way home on the 303’ Kula Shaker) and glided around Stourhead’s sunken site, sprinkled with red, green and gold.
Hushed tones in the canopy, birdsong across a distant fold, rustles in the reed bed, the eye drawn every which way its hard to keep up. I ask when does this brilliance happen to us at any other time of year…well, it doesn’t.
The Greeks knew that those who plant trees, will never sit in their shade or gaze at the mature magnificence. Aren’t we indebted to those who carried the spade before.