Today dawned clear and cold, another of those days when as soon as the sun's rays touched the river, mists rose. I couldn't resist going out to take some pictures.
And this last picture to show that I do really know what the poem is about. One newly picked pear, and one that I didn't notice soon enough. they are beautifully sweet and juicy, and the birds know it!
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.....
... And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core....
If only cars would run on pear juice.