A single pale mushroom pushing up through deep green moss and pine needles on a woodland floor.

Gareth Midwood, Farsley, Leeds

Things I stopped to look at

Close-up photographs from walks that mostly start at the end of my street. Kept here so I remember what was out, and when.

A heavy cluster of scarlet rowan berries hanging among dark green leaves.

Calverley Woods

The rowans went over all at once this year. This one had bent right down over the path, close enough to look at properly without stopping anyone behind me.

An orb web strung between stems, every thread beaded with dew.

Rodley Nature Reserve

First morning cold enough to see your breath. Every gap in the hedge had one of these in it, and they were gone by nine.

Spikes of purple heather in full flower, packed close together on open moorland.

Ilkley Moor

A fortnight late, but worth the wait. You smell it before you're properly up the hill — warm and honeyish, with bees in it the whole way along.

Green acorns in their cups, clustered on an oak twig against sunlit leaves.

Golden Acre Park

Still green, still firmly on. A fortnight of this heat and the path under the oaks will be unwalkable in soft shoes.

A tall spike of purple foxglove flowers, each bell freckled inside.

Shipley Glen

Foxgloves always turn up where something's been cleared or burnt. This lot had taken over a patch where a tree came down in the winter.

Moss in close-up, its thin stalks holding pale seed capsules above the green.

Hardcastle Crags

Knelt in a wet path for ten minutes over something the size of a thumbnail. Longest I've looked at anything all month.

A shallow beck running clear over rounded, moss-edged stones between wooded banks.

Meanwood Beck

Two days of rain and it was up over the stepping stones. Loud enough that I didn't hear the train go past.

Crusted lichen covering a stone in overlapping patches of rust orange, grey and white.

Otley Chevin

Nothing else was doing much, so I spent the walk looking at walls. Decades of this on one coping stone, and it only grows where the air is clean.

Hoar frost furring every vein and edge of a fallen leaf.

The back garden

Didn't even get out of the gate for this one. Hard frost overnight, and everything left in the border had furred over white.