Equinox days

The trees are now turning that shade that broccoli goes when you decide it is best made into soup. I missed taking photographs on the last full moon but with the changing seasons, the approaching equinox and the significance of the harvest moon I felt it would be wrong to miss this one. Nonetheless, these are sunrise photos rather than my usual sunset ones. I love the days around the equinox – the light can be magical and there’s a sense of balance. Summer days can be long, giddy and exhausting. Winter days are short, dark and often dank. But the equinoxes sit perfectly between the two.

First, a reminder that sometimes it’s good to look back and reflect. I can get focussed on the view ahead, but this shot was the way I had come.

Autumn is my favourite season by far. It is the season of redheads – yellows, oranges, bronze and gold intermingling with every shade of green. I can match what I wear to suit the season and its nature. I can move across the landscape as if a part of it, both camouflaged and celebratory. I would even enjoy the winter that follows if humans were just more sensible and adapted to the seasons. Winter would be fine if we could sleep more, move less, acknowledge that the crack of dawn is somewhere around 8am and that two hours earlier is just godforsaken, dark and energy sapping. Winter should be a time of retreat and recuperation, a rest before all the activity of spring and summer. It should not be as we treat it – another round on the treadmill, ignoring nature’s clear message, that now is time to sleep and rest, not keep going like a wind-up toy that will eventually and inevitably break.

Just because it’s gorgeous.

So I felt I should go out and take photographs on Tuesday night, as the full moon was rising. ‘Should’ isn’t a healthy attitude though. It is the minor problem I have with the equinox – sunset photos are dinner time photos, either cooking it or eating it. And however much I’d like to think that dinner is a moveable feast, my belly tends to argue that it’s more or less a fixed point. Nature gave me a broad hint that this was OK, because sunset on Tuesday consisted mainly of cloud. So I got up early on Wednesday to take morning photos instead. This is the flipside of the period around the equinox – sunrise is a respectable time. And indeed I went slightly later, at the point the dew turns to mist as the sun warms the grass.

A slightly different view. I love the patterns of the beech tree roots.

On my way out, I had one slight worry. It’s a frequent one, and not related to the time of year. Wandering on your own can feel dangerous. And I know the riskiest thing I can encounter when I’m out is the human male. But as I jog up the road, camera bag slung over my shoulder, I say good morning to a passing man on a bike. Both of us are wearing fluorescent corral jerseys. I won’t be camouflaging myself this morning – this is more a protection against drivers saying they cannot see me, when what they really mean is they’re driving too fast to see me in good time, and would rather blame me than take responsibility. Our collective colouring is an acknowledgement of a common enemy. I need to reach the tranquillity that I can find away from the road.

And again, because I wanted a slightly different perspective.

The time of year for ploughing.

Still incredibly green – but we are reaching the time of year when a month can make a huge difference and taking photos every week, or even every day, will be more appropriate.

During the pandemic, more people have been out walking locally. I’m not sure they always knew where the footpath was, so this is one Devon farmer’s clear pointer.

Always a risk photographing towards the sun, but this is one of my favourite views. I love seeing that distant ridge, with the trees rising like a bog-brush mane.