Autumn and the Moon

The last time I posted it was August – I was off on an island adventure and the days were still long, if not especially sunny. If I hadn’t realised that that’s been a long time, the trees on the streets are reminding me – it’s been the most beautiful autumn, the indifferent summer mellowing gently into it, then, Bam! Cool, foggy mornings, crisp nights, short days and the trees igniting in a shower of gold, amber and crimson. We had our annual samhain party, and after the dancing and debauchery and fireworks and fun came the morning and the hangover. One of the best ways to blow away the cobwebs the morning after is to go for a walk, so three of us made our way to Hampstead Heath to admire the autumn colours.

Up past the kite flying crowds on Parliament Hill, down into the gentle sweep of valley below Kenwood House the panorama of of London falls behind us, winks, vanishes and reappears framed between gentle hills then vanishes again as we enter a grove of beech trees. The light is fading, without a tripod I cannot capture this on camera but photography is not the point – this is a special place to all of us and we just come here to stand among the giants and drink in the eerie, glimmering light. The biggest tree in the grove which three people together cannot reach around has already shed its oval leaves and the woodland floor is carpeted three inch thick with them; the other trees are only just beginning to turn. A carpet of beech leaves in the dimness of an autumn or winter twilight takes on an eerie orange pink which the individual leaves, as you can see below,  do not possess.

The giant stood bare at the head of the grove, drifts of its own leaves burying its roots and swathing the clefts and fissures of its trunk.  Clusters of plump fungi nestled in its bark.

The strengthening wind stirred its upper branches and whipped the smaller trees into fierce motion.  The sky darkened. It was time to walk back. Twilight is one of my favourite times of day in the city, especially during the shorter days of the year. The cosy warm glow of shop and cafe windows and the weird artificiality of streetlights against a deep indigo sky are a perennial delight to me. Maybe you are surprised that a nature lover like me can take such pleasure in what is essentially light pollution but I cannot help myself; I do love the darkening autumn and winter nights and their cheerful illumination, and there are reasons why I live in a big city, after all. The gorgeous sight of the whole of London spread out and twinkling before us was as ever breathtaking. If you are ever in London on a clear autumn or winter evening there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING so heart stoppingly lovely to be found anywhere else in the city as the view from Parliament Hill. But on this particular night the city and it’s gaudy beauty was upstaged as the racing clouds parted and a brilliant moon, just a little short of full but as big as I’ve ever seen it lit up the deepening sky. It was bright as a spotlight, shining through clouds still faintly tinged with colour from the setting sun, and it cast a glamour over the ponds fringing the heath. A silver glittering path bloomed on the waters surface and faded as the clouds massed, then came brighter than before.  All the lights of the city cannot compete or compare to this unearthly beauty.