A series of captions

On the road to the west stood an old dead tree. A landmark, a gateway, a point of no return, because there was no other McDonalds until Fort William.

 

The whole area was a volcanic landscape scoured deeply by the last glacier in Scotland over ten thousand years ago. Fossils emerged, even neolithic tools, but this? This would change everything.

 

The waters are rising with the heavy rain. What will we do when it’s permanent.
That’s excellent DWR is that, I may cover my vintage Gore Tex in leaves.
Fresh water waves rippled and popped around the flooded trees as we walked the bonnie banks.
One, two, buckle my shoe…
I’m sure we can get these shadows so that we look the same height. What? It’s fine, it’s fine.
He felt sorry for everyone who had climbed Ben Lomond that day to find the summit locked in cloud.
I can’t remember an autumn as glorious as this one. The colours seem brighter, it’s lasting longer that I could have hoped and just being out in it has brought me such joy. Oh, for some hard frost and fog before the leaves are all brown or gone. But I won’t bitch if I don’t get it, I mean how could I.

 

I mean, I could have flipped it upside down.
Next day, the dawn was a brilliant fiery red and I wandered though the weird and lurid landscape of another planet; for the vegetation which gives Mars its red appearance had taken root on Earth. As Man had succumbed to the Martians, so our land now succumbed to the Red Weed…
The light was going and as the trail took us into the single remaining beam as it cut through the woods there was something other than the trees and bracken sparking in the autumn glow.
It was a tunnel of spider webs, from our feet to the setting sun. We’d never have seen it in normal light. Lovely.
Nature makes very well, but when it brakes it often does it with just as much flair.