If you go down in the woods today...

(well the fields) you're sure of flocks of long-tailed tits, diving baby coots, shy young robins, the air full of butterflies and the hedges full of berries. With the air still warm, Autumn is gearing up to be amazing and there's nowhere closer to see it than Railway Fields right now.

The magical trees of Albion that guard this wood from malign influences are here.

The red of the hawthorn berry,

deep orange of the rowan tree,

and the rich black of the elderberry; although some say witches congregate under them when they are full of fruit, "Elder be ye Lady's tree, burn it not or cursed ye'll be". 

A drowsy hover fly basking in the warm sun caught unawares buzzes angrily around my head for blocking the light.

Under the trees a clump of Michaelmas daisies, their name a reminder of when folk were guided not by the clock but by the change of seasons and feasts of the angels and saints. The days grow shorter and Michael draws closer to protect against the dark of night.

At last, a reminder that even those things past their prime still have beauty and are full of life, as I pass the teasel, tall and alien looking, a home to spiders and other creatures making their autumn beds in their spiny heads.