72 micro-seasons 54...

Janey...

Winter whispers in my ear, though honeysuckle still scents a sheltered wall

Jane...

Birds swoop and lift and plough in a grey sky, halt in the thin rust shelter of beech and cherry.

Helen...

At dusk the autumn colours spill into the air, and light itself seems pink and orange.

Beverley...

Blueless, windless days. Leaves falling on breath. The linden tree is bare.

Kit...

Hallelujah for Persicaria, the last raspberry blush of colour in my tangle of floral decay.

'Jeanie'

Washed by salty tears, 

your name yet undiminished

in the grieving heart

72 micro-seasons 53...

Janey...

Unspooling silently across a perfect sky, a skein of wild geese

Jane...

It's not raining but the air is heavy with moisture, rust leaves bright against the grey sky.

Helen...

An October damp softness in the air and nothing hurries.

Beverley...

Half term pumpkin-pickers thread the patch with chatter.

Little ones in new wellies fall over and rise up muddy.

Kit...

Last night's raindrops hang on barbed wire, glass beads catching light in early misty stillness.

72 micro-seasons 52

Janey...

Gutters plashing, furious

streams in spate, high-tide pebbles roiling - 

The sound, always, of water in my life

Beverley...

Four muntjacs hold time before running over the track-braided earth, graze a while, and vanish.

Helen...

The storm leaves great drifts of beech leaves in the corners of a courtyard, bright blue sky above.

Kit...

Ever shorter days ...

we swim in the almost-light hugging the bank, the swollen river running

Jane...

Hints of pink crack through grey scudding clouds. My friends the trees appear, looming.

72 micro-seasons 51

Janey...

After the full moon

gulls hunt insects in the slates

heralding their finds

Beverley...

Countless glistening cobwebs hang on empty seedheads and faded grasses. Morning mist makes ghosts of trees.

Helen...

Acer leaves fall and lie like tiny stars, red, yellow and gold.

Kit...

Up from the barely dressed birch copse, a quiver of forge-fresh crows fly into the greymilk sky

72 micro-seasons 50

Janey...

The  silver-blue stillness of sea and sky...

We watch a juvenile cormorant learning to dive

Kit...

In the walled garden, the last handfuls of runner beans ... and one final small fig, hiding amongst the turning leaves.

Jane...

I break the water's skin and swim to dusk's still-clear light, so thin I could go through it.

Helen...

In warm sunshine I string up onions and pack potatoes into sacks.

72 micro-seasons 49

Janey...

A pale sunbeam lights

purple clouds across the sea 

Storm rain drifting in

Helen...

Dizzied by autumn colours in soft rain. Red, ochre, amber, russet, brown.

Beverley...

Undecided libra season: sometimes wet, windy and grey; sometimes dry, warm and bright. Wardrobe dilemmas.

Jane...

Thick frost on the windscreen in a dark corner, while the rowan at the top of the drive blazes golden light in the morning sun.

Kit...

Kippford in the gloaming ... a babble of curlews dip crescent moon beaks into lowtide mud - overhead a rush of Canada geese head west.