History sleeps, dark and idle; little by little, autumn steps in.
Imperial eagle of a vine spreads wings over an ancient horse trough.
Red vine leaves crawl to a roof - those tiles must be surely their kin!
Even waterlily follows the common trend and turns yellow. Or inky. Or... brown/pink/green?
Really, trees are much better at being all yellow and picturesque.
They would be, were it not for the rain and dull illumination. Autumn reminds that grey is its colour too.
Trees give up and lose heart and leaves.
This trough is not empty; so much the worse for leaves caught under a mirror surface.
Their colour is preserved, if only to reflect grey sky.
That water-mill may be standing still, but the wheel of history turns, and on its reverse side, plastic present day is shining and defying natural grey.
The weather gives up and leaks some shine, just a little bit to honour fallen leaves.
But what about the persevering ones? Well, tomorrow their will be the sun, the light, and the glory, even if only for a day.