"Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness."
For it was the poet, John Keats who used those opening words for his poem, named simply as To Autumn. And it was on the morning of the 26th of November 2025 that those opening words for his poem seemed incredibly apt, for down on the ground, mists and a delightful crisp frost along with fruitfulness, and yet as the morning slowly went on, what happened? The skies slowly began to break, and a break in the clouds meant that I could send the metaphorical flying tripod with its camera attached to it into the air, and below are the photographs that I managed to capture this time around, of a rather shrouded Nottinghamshire town of Eastwood, looking slightly ethereal, yet magical, underneath the carpet of cloudy/misty conditions below, and from above I was taken away by what I could see below.
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| "Gentle arts of a Crisp Morning." |
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| "Stillness above the landscape." |
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| "Shrouded is Suburbia. The peace of floating gently above." |
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| "As the view goes, the atmosphere below. A delightful Morning of Beauty." |
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| "Peaking down towards Eastwood Church, and a sea of Cloud." |
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| "Above the white sea, a glow." |
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| "The light, the magic of a white sea below." |
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| "The sea of Cloud, meets the Suburban Shore." |
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