The Colours of Autumn
At no point could I rely on an accurate weather forecast during autumn 2025. When the Met Office predicted sunshine at Wakehurst, it rained all afternoon. They forecast thick cloud, so I cancelled and then the sun came out. Fortunately, despite the poor forecast accuracy and dull lighting, autumn colours are so vibrant that photographers don't need bright sunshine to create wonderful results. The village of Little Horsted in East Sussex has American Sweetgum, Ginko and European Beech producing dazzling colours every November. My Canon 500mm lens can reach high into the canopies. On a rainy afternoon, I spent four hours at Wakehurst, setting my camera along Westwood Valley and the lake under an umbrella the whole time. The gardens close at 4.30pm in November, so I walked to the pub, had a drink and caught the bus home. I usually visit Wakehurst in the summer months, so it seemed strange leaving in the dark.







Every so often, I look through old photos and wonder why I never shared them. Both photos were selected into Explore on Flickr when I posted them recently. I really like the intentional camera movement in this picture of a birch woodland in autumn. The traffic light colours of beech leaves compliment the backdrop of American Sweetgum. The photos are from 2022.





My favourite native tree in autumn is the European Beech. In our mild British climate, the colours peak in early November. This mature beech is along the banks of Westwood Lake, Wakehurst. Frequent showers and strong winds that afternoon meant that I only had a 20 second window of calm conditions to take this picture.
I must remember never to visit Wakehurst again at weekends. Screeching children. Parents emulating their screeching children. London elites with booming voices. Ambling Trustafarians. Catatonic hipsters. Weekday visitors are normally very considerate towards me when I'm taking photos. For the camera-blockers, every day is a holiday for people who don't need to work because they live off investments, while the schedules of others is just background noise. The weekend London elites thought nothing of walking straight in-front of my camera, staying put, while staring blankly at me, before ambling off, even being overtaken by drifting leaves. I found them all insufferable. If I hear another Zone 2 Londoner telling half of West Sussex how Andy Burnham is going to save the Labour Party and Britain, I am going to scream.





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