I’m not sure at the moment if I’m chasing summer, or courting autumn. The colours in the river from peaty water over gritstone could easily be mistaken for the first russets of fall. Levels are high today after heavy rain, so there is no chance of delicacy or painted impressions of reflected leaves. Colours intermingle, as if from a painter’s brush when dipped in water. Opacity conceals the depths; dirt and debris in suspension. But the sunlight still dances on the surface and fires sparks / sparks fires in my imagination.