Autumn Days

When you awake to a country where the harvest is mostly safely in, where the first shy leaves fall from the trees, and the dawn sun burns gently into the September mist you know that an Englishman's heart turns to bonfires and the neck-hair tingling of the huntsman's horn.

Yes, the early morning temperatures are now low enough to keep the scent of the trail low enough for hounds and that there is just the chance to hear once more their music, temperatures low enough for them to walk out on exercise with mounted followers. It is the very essence of an English (or Scottish or Welsh or Irish) autumn.

Photographs

These and a few more may be found HERE