duckfeathersphotography (formerly PxRudd)
Mellow fruitfulness...
This is part of an email I sent to my family back home in Australia, trying to describe a Northern Autumn. At the time, I didn't have a camera, so I had to try and describe it in written form (with the aid of an old friend, Keats...)
Autumn in Northern Ireland is beautiful.
When the leaves are just starting to turn, the Irish countryside is an array of green, orange, red, and yellow. Individually, the colours seem plain enough, but together, when tickled by the sunlight, the beauty and serenity catches your breath with surprise. Everywhere you walk, you have mounds of fallen burnt amber leaves to kick and crunch through, and when you drive through them, they float up as if they have one last breath of air in them.
The farmers have all their silage in and there are big, round, barrel-shaped hay stacks everwhere waiting for the coming winter months. Apples are falling off their trees ready to be simmered and spiced, then baked within hot flaky pastry and served with homemade custard and warmed apple cider. Everyone's chimneys are starting to get cleared out and the smell of chimney smoke wafts through the air, tempting you to rush home to sit by your own crackling fire. The twittering of the last avian families can be heard while they are readying themselves for their holiday homes in the south. The pumpkins and costumes were out to scare you one haunted night, adding another thrill to the already chilly air, and fireworks urgently light the clear night as if to guide you quickly home.
There IS a mist in the air, and at times it does feel mellow. The apple trees DO bend, burdened with the weight they hold. The sun DOES seem old and mature, stubbornly holding on. But when the wind starts to howl through the night, taking away the last songs of Summer and vestiges of Autumn, you start to feel a chill to the bone and realise it's now time to snuggle-up and hibernate...
Stay warm and cosy,
Pier x
Mellow fruitfulness...
This is part of an email I sent to my family back home in Australia, trying to describe a Northern Autumn. At the time, I didn't have a camera, so I had to try and describe it in written form (with the aid of an old friend, Keats...)
Autumn in Northern Ireland is beautiful.
When the leaves are just starting to turn, the Irish countryside is an array of green, orange, red, and yellow. Individually, the colours seem plain enough, but together, when tickled by the sunlight, the beauty and serenity catches your breath with surprise. Everywhere you walk, you have mounds of fallen burnt amber leaves to kick and crunch through, and when you drive through them, they float up as if they have one last breath of air in them.
The farmers have all their silage in and there are big, round, barrel-shaped hay stacks everwhere waiting for the coming winter months. Apples are falling off their trees ready to be simmered and spiced, then baked within hot flaky pastry and served with homemade custard and warmed apple cider. Everyone's chimneys are starting to get cleared out and the smell of chimney smoke wafts through the air, tempting you to rush home to sit by your own crackling fire. The twittering of the last avian families can be heard while they are readying themselves for their holiday homes in the south. The pumpkins and costumes were out to scare you one haunted night, adding another thrill to the already chilly air, and fireworks urgently light the clear night as if to guide you quickly home.
There IS a mist in the air, and at times it does feel mellow. The apple trees DO bend, burdened with the weight they hold. The sun DOES seem old and mature, stubbornly holding on. But when the wind starts to howl through the night, taking away the last songs of Summer and vestiges of Autumn, you start to feel a chill to the bone and realise it's now time to snuggle-up and hibernate...
Stay warm and cosy,
Pier x