The woods aglow

The summer-flower has run to seed,
And yellow is the woodland bough;
And every leaf of bush and weed
Is tipt with autumn's pencil now.

And I do love the varied hue,
And I do love the browning plain;
And I do love each scene to view,
That's mark'd with beauties of her reign.

There have been dozens of beautiful autumnal blips but I couldn't let the season pass without adding one of my own. Nothing could surpass the glory of the Appalachians a year ago but I headed for the nearest beech hanger in the Gwaun valley, making my way from the fields, top left, diagonally down to the river, over the little wooden bridge and up the other side. The lowering sun went in and all I got were shady shots. Retraced my steps over the bridge - sun emerged again - back I went. There were the colours I had sought, and I particularly like the naked, gleaming trunk of the beech tree by the river - you can just make out the glint of water at its foot. However, John Clare reminds us that these 'varied hues' will not stay long:

Autumn-time, thy scenes and shades
Are pleasing to the tasteful eye;
Though winter, when the thought pervades,
Creates an ague-shivering sigh.

[Thanks for all the comments that spotlit yesterday's cheesemonger. I can heartily recommend his products.]