September 1st – Autumn continued to tap me on the shoulder as I left at sunrise for work. The cold night air had caused the finest, lowest of mists that hung in hollows, against hedges and huddled round houses. This was truly magical, and I seemed to enjoy it almost alone. I saw few others – if only the people of England could see it. I was very nearly late for my train as I spent too long taking pictures. By the time I reached Four Oaks, the mist had burnt off and this rare beauty passed unknown to the yawning commuters who joined my train, bleary and yawning.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 