The last quinces. Not fit for eating but good to look at as they lie glowing amongst the wet leaves.
A squeaky savoy cabbage. I wish cabbages were smaller: I'm the only one who will eat it.
20 kg of spuds for a fiver.
Leaves and berries the colour of flames. Flickering in the rain.
A hat to match. But now I have run out of knitting. Sad face.
A dish of baked apples to cheer up a yarnless knitter.