Last leaves of Autumn

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Today started very misty and we were in the clouds. However, the sun has burned through and I found a spot where it played on the few remaining leaves. The sense of melancholy evident in Shelley's poem and in many people's anticipation of the long winter months is mitigated here by the knowledge that a few poor days will always be followed by crisp sunshine. Ça remonte le moral!