Sunday, September 8

YEAR:  2019 |

Woods, 11:39


This morning I leave on a long walk to discover that the woods have decided that autumn has arrived.

A lot of trees have grown red berries and now look worryingly as though they can see Christmas coming over the horizon. A few mushrooms have also made themselves known. Most have a grungy brown colour, like a poor attempt at disguise. One though stands out in its knobbly redness.

I listen to Buckingham McVie as I walk. Fleetwood Mac have a very dysfunctional dynamic if they refused this as their next album. (It contains all of them except Stevie Nicks, who had the opportunity to add a couple of her own songs to the mix.) They proved this though when they followed up this refusal by sacking Lindsey Buckingham outright.

I suspect we could find a lesson in life somewhere in the gap between these two observations if we tried.