Post storm, autumn's agents arrive at the river in a gold rush on a blue morning. Three grey seagulls are navigating upstream, harrassing the stern of some full sail ghost ship invisible to me. The birds fall and rise in the air above the choppy water like the branches of windswept overhanging willows whose liberated leaves have been shaken to the ground, forming multi-colored mosaics that decorate the lapping waves.
Drifting amid the debris beside the bank, plastered with fallen petals, a plastic detergent bottle bobs up and down. Perhaps that old laundress of legend, the spectral bent-backed washer woman who scrubs the blood-stained clothes of murdered men has adopted more modern methods of completing her grisly chores?
(And this post brings to a conclusion our recent season of Riparian Rambles and illustrative photography .... you don't have to sigh with relief quite so audibly!)
Finally! A pretty picture! You should only post pretty pictures from now on!
Posted by: Quicquid | October 26, 2005 at 19:59
Nawwww....I like the melancholy ones.
Posted by: Andraste | October 27, 2005 at 09:45
I agree. Any idiot can take pretty pictures, and does. You are expected to admire them. Thank God for the demise of the slide projector: "And here we have glorious Mount Washington in the mists of dawn."
Posted by: Bleak Mouse | October 27, 2005 at 12:21