As we returned from Greenwich, a slow driver dared to occupy the road in front of us. No way the man was going to follow it all the way to Cambridge, so we shot off at a tangent on one of his many escape routes.
We are very lucky to have so many of these alternatives here. Back in Washington, if you were stuck in traffic or behind a slow poke, you were stuck for the duration. It was very tedious.
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Whichever alternative we select, it is always enjoyable and on a grey day, the countryside was particularly colourful.
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It reminds me of Newberry Fruits, candies we used to get in England when I was little.
If it’s 50 years since I had a doughnut, it must be nearer 60 since I had a Newberry Fruit. But I think I preferred Rowntree’s Fruit Pastilles. (Not gums those were too hard)
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This diversion offers various options. That day we decided to go past Stump Church.
We paused by the pond to see if anyone was home but saw only reflections.
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Stump Church is United Methodist. I am unable to say where the name came from.
Here is all I could come up with:
“The nickname Stump (or Boston Stump) for St. Botolph’s Church in Boston, Lincolnshire, England, refers to its massive 15th Century west tower.”
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It seems an unlikely connection but anything is possible.
It is a tiny church with a very small graveyard, a peaceful enough place to rest.
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The trees have a reddish tint this year.
Assuming it was to do with the weather, I interrogated the internet:
“As days shorten and nights grow cooler, trees stop producing chlorophyll, which traps leftover sugars in the leaves.”
“Anthocyanin is produced in the Fall in response to bright, sunny days and those trapped sugars and it is that pigment that gives trees a reddist tint.”
“Warm, sunny days and cool (but not freezing) nights produce the brightest reds.”
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The Stump Church trees are lovely as is the carpet beneath them.
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That was it for October 11th.
Next day was even more grey when we went to Woodlands Cemetery.
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The cemetery is at the top of a hill which affords us a good view but we also go up there to look at the trees, usually in Spring and Fall.
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The contrast of colours caught my eye.
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The soft warmth of the trees and the rigid cold of the stones.
Mist clinging to the hills added to the atmosphere.
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Just why such contrasts, or for that matter why cemeteries appeal to me, I have no idea.
Cemeteries on a grey, damp day in particular.
Far from feeling depressed, I find peace here. Perhaps it’s in the silence.
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As we walk here, I always have the feeling that the trees are talking quietly to each other.
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That the large oak in the middle is emoting loudly.
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Beyond the dark woods of the cemetery, life continues.
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Darkness and light. Another contrast.
Leaving the cemetery, we didn’t go straight home, finding instead a lot more colour on that grey day, for tomorrow’s post.
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