Autumn has gently arrived in New Zealand. Well, my part of it, anyway. The weather is more stable and the days are not so hot. There is reason to get out the knitting needles (perhaps this will be the winter I finish the blanket) and it's back to porridge in the mornings.
Helped by the golden early morning light, the park was glowing with autumn-ness this morning:
Familiar paths are yellow and crunchy.
The lower slanting light shows up textures better -
- and down at the river, toitoi plumes are reflected and boats of leaves sail past:
All the old tired leaves are taking a final, vivid bow, before they fall off the stage.
And my thoughts turn to getting the firewood stacked, the hedge pruned and making a start on that Futurist Movement essay that is due 9 am the first day after the holidays.