Turning ...

Caught sight of this lovely corner of the verge today as we pounded back to the car after an ill-advisedly late walk (we were so hungry we jointly his a metaphorical wall) and had to stop for it. That autumnal colour of the dry grass is a favourite of mine, and I love its delicate tracery against the blobs of flame-coloured montbretia (that I believe is now called something else*) and the solid echo of the gold in the beach beyond. 

On a day like this, when it rained for much of the time, I feel hard pressed to photograph something different; I'm rather pleased with this attempt!

*Apparently its Sunday name is Crocosmia, and it is derived from the Greek, crocos = crocus or saffron, and osmos= smell or odour because it has the aroma of saffron when moist, saffron being a spice: the stigmas of the crocus flower.