16 NOVEMBER 1951, Page 26

The Wreck of the Year With sails torn to ribbons

by the winds, but patches of gay bunting still flying, the year labours towards the winter solstice. A few hare- bells, scabious and yellow toadflax linger on the banks ; a few soapwort flowers enliven the bridle paths, and ivy-leaved toadflax keeps alight against the stone walls. The tall pear-trees of the West, bridal in Spring, now go up in flames ; oaks are burnished in tones of ochre and gamboge, but most of the ashes and limes (the small-leaved first of all) are now leafless. The leaves of the spindle I mentioned last week actually outvie the unique flower-like shade of the pods by extreme variations of tone between a sombre purplish-green, bright vermilion, lemon and pale green.