My morning commute takes me through some very different places. I begin on an estate, travel into the city and then back out into the suburbs. How much does that sound like the American dream?! By the time I've stepped of my second bus onto the rain filmed tarmac, I'm in a quiet village-like setting; a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the congested thoroughfares of urban Manchester. In this little part of the world, seasons have clearly changed.
Autumn has dumped it's harvest cocktail of rain, leaves and dirt onto the street corners. The drains are overwhelmed with water; the pavements smattered with an organic sludge. Crisp yellow colours are basted to the city floor, trodden under the heals of passing school children. Nature's deposits acquiring a dew licked sheen as they float steadily to the ground. The colours are rich and bright.
Cyclists, students and delivery drivers all leave their impressions on the earth in it's vegetative state. The earth takes a deep breath out after the joy and pent up excitement of summer.
The forecasts are grey and the crunch continues. But life and the world is no less beautiful.
