Seasons of Mist

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue; 
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; 
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn. - To Autumn, John Keats

Outside of somewhere like Canada I would argue that wales is one of the best places to experience autumn. The leaves on trees shift from green to red to gold and are finally swept from their moorings by autumnal storms.

Mist veils the world in an ethereal haze and crisp mornings leave fields frosted over with dew. And after a days of kicking your way through leaves you can always retired to your local pub to warm up and get in a pint.

These pictures were taken on a day out in abercynon, on a particularly scenic trail that carried you up into the hills and wooded areas that surrounded the area. With sunlight filtering through clouds, leaves crunching underfoot and stunning views over the surrounding fields it proves autumn in Britain really is an inspiring time to get out and take some pictures.