Project 365 day 335: The Orchard Bench

This may be my favourite kind of light: low sunlight which saturates colours, and a partly cloudy sky creating vibrant contrasts between steely grey-blues and the acid yellow of lichen or fading russet of autumn leaves. I had planned a "proper" walk today, but J's morning didn't work out quite as planned so I decided I needed to stay nearby in case I was needed. I took my camera for a walk around the orchard, the first for a while, and found a beautiful range of textures and colours all begging to be photographed. This week I'm focusing on trees for National Tree Week: the hedgerow to the village side of the orchard is an ancient boundary, figuring on maps far older than the house, and there is an illegible boundary stone at the bottom corner. The hedge consists mainly of old, gnarled hawthorns and elders, a rich habitat for insects and lichens.

I took the camera back to the house with the memory card almost full, then returned outside to pick chard and broccoli. As I turned and straightened, I found a perfect rainbow arching from the top of the Downs over the village to the hillside behind our house, brilliantly visible against the intense, blue-grey sky. The light reminded me of Millais' famous painting of the blind girl, vividly beautiful and uncomfortable.

Just a little later, as I emptied the kitchen compost bin, every remaining birch leaf and every bare twig was silhouetted against a pale, rose-gold sunset which stretched around the horizon,