Gossamer Threads

As November unfolds, the sun’s power is fading, and there’s a real chill in the air at dawn.  As elsewhere in these islands, autumn is arriving slowly this year, but a sure sign of its onset is early morning fog.  It coats the common, but even though we’re well into the month, there’s still no sign of frost.   At Parkmill, smoke rises vertically from cottages along the roadside, and there’s a strong smell of wood smoke in the air.  In a couple of weeks, when the first frost must surely have arrived, the little field across the road from Sheppard’s shop can be wonderful in early morning.  It takes a long time for the sun to reach this small patch of grass, which, even on a sunny day in mid-winter, can stay white the whole day; this morning it’s green.

The path at the rear of the field leads through woods, still to loose some of their leaves.  Even though we’ve had a series of gales recently, the canopy remains closed, but the first frost will change this abruptly.  I emerge into the amazing space that is Three Cliffs Bay.  It’s perfectly still.  Down here, protected by the cliffs, there’s no wind, and the only noise is the distant hissing sea, and a few crows on the shore.  Heavy dew, and the first rays of sun light up thousands of gossamer threads amongst the grass, and I stay on the path so as not to destroy the work of their owners.  Pipits and wagtails appear from nowhere as the bay begins to wake up, but it’s only when I reach the sea that I find gulls and oystercatchers, and eventually early morning walkers sneaking round the base of the cliffs from Pobbles Bay.