A fog hangs over the sleeping earth, silent except for the occasional chirp of a starling or sparrow as they awake at the crack of dawn, creating an eerie effect reminiscent of a Peter Jackson film set. Yet despite this creepy atmosphere, there is something I love about crisp September mornings. Having never had a chance to properly appreciate the early mornings at this time of year before, I have found myself enjoying rising early and enjoying the refreshing bite in the air as the sun emerges and burns off the fog.
Walking across a dew drenched field in the early morning, leaving a trail of footprints in your wake significant enough to make you feel, just for a second, that you are the first person to walk the earth, leaves crunching under your feet the only sound breaking into the world.
Cobwebs form a silken blanket over the browning bushes, as if trying to protect them from the impending grasp of the winter frost that will strip them of their natural finery, the architects of such beauty hidden away from the biting chill of the autumn daybreak. All of this conjures up images reminiscent of the hymns sung in junior school harvest assemblies. It is a shame that all too soon it will be winter, the dark mornings will be drawing in, leaves will have fallen from trees and many of the woodland creatures will have gone into hibernation for the winter.