Creeping around on the forest floor. I couldn’t resist the texture.
There is a moment when the leaves in Autumn reach the peak of their colour. From then on deterioration sets in and all colour and vibrance is slowly lost. I suppose much of life is like this – the journeys to the peaks and the journeys back down into the valleys. I photographed these leaves in the garden of a Benedictine Training Centre. They were at their best.
I saw this wall at “The Friars” a Carmelite Priory. I loved the light and the scattered leaves, but the wall seemed a little intimidating. I was reminded of a section of Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall.”
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.