No sun–no moon!
No morn–no noon!
No dawn–no dusk–no proper time of day–
No sky–no earthly view–
No distance looking blue–
No road–no street–no “t’other side this way”–
No end to any Row–
No indications where the Crescents go–
No top to any steeple–
No recognitions of familiar people–
No courtesies for showing ’em–
No knowing ’em!
No travelling at all–no locomotion–
No inkling of the way–no notion–
“No go” by land or ocean–
No mail–no post–
No news from any foreign coast–
No Park, no Ring, no afternoon gentility–
No company–no nobility–
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member–
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds–


That poem by Thomas Hood (1799–1845) pins down some of the reasons why I’m usually glad to see the back of this month. The weather this weekend has been the kind of cold and mist for which the word “dreary” might have been specially created. A thin smear of mist, quite unworthy of photographic effort. Three years ago, another November afternoon spent walking along the South Manchester stretch of the River Mersey yielded these fog-drenched views.


5 thoughts on “November”

  1. Gorgeous shots John! As much as I love the temperate climate of Sydney, I kind of wish we had 4 distinct seasons.

    Mind you, I’ve never had to shovel snow or try and get to work in sleet… :)

  2. Thanks folks. In typically changeable British fashion it’s still cold today but bright and sunny with it.

    I like snow but we rarely see any which lasts. Too often the end of autumn and beginning of spring blend with winter into a long succession of grey and miserable days. This year we had no summer to speak of; it was cold and rained all the time. Now you see why the weather here is a recurrent topic of conversation!

  3. Thanks for the poem,and the poet notification Thomas Hood? Where do you find this stuff John?

    Having lived in Key West Florida for 15 years, I now appreciate seasons and Autumn/Fall in particular. I love it when all the grays merge together….

    Something unique to Wales and Ireland is drizzle, death by drizzle to be more precise.

    Are these tree photos from the continent? too flat and straight by half.

    Lovely post.Many thanks.

  4. Thanks, Scott. I was searching for another November reference when I stumbled across the poem. I’ve come across the latter before but wouldn’t have remembered any of the lines or the author’s name.

    The trees are all the same small region of South Manchester. That line of poplars is rather anomalous compared to the rest of the area.

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